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BOSTON: THE GORHAM PRESS 

TORONTO: THE COPP CLARK CO., LIMITED 



Copyright, 1917, by Richard G. Badger 


All Rights Reserved 





MADE IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 


•The Gorham Press, Boston, -15. S. A. 

DEC 29 1917''' 


©CU479730n'' 


AJ 




TO 

MY WIFE 



/ 


/ 


CONTENTS 


Chapter 

I Jack Classifies Brown 9 

II An Adventure 16 

III The Fight 28 

IV Jack Defends His Altar 38 

V Some Conversations 43 

VI Jack Visits the Russells 51 

VII Jack’s Declaration and Flight 57 

VIII Jack Visits the Home of Dr. Hammond. . 67 

IX Letters and Intrigue 80 

X Jack Makes an Easter Vacation Call 92 

XI Lucile Confesses 106 

XII Jack Meets the Faculty 118 

XIII Jack Declares Himself to Dr. Hammond.. 130 

XIV Letters, Athletics, and Persiflage 137 

XV Jack and the Wellesley Girls Hear Camilla 

Urso 150 

XVI Jack Goes to Cripple Creek 163 

XVII The Neighborhood Bully 172 

XVIII Jack Joins Bill’s Posse and Repairs Bill’s 

Grammar 180 

XIX Jack and Lucile Visit the Park 193 

XX Lucile Twice Dismisses Jack 200 

XXI Jack is Reinstated 212 

XXII Dr. Hammond Dies 219 

XXIII Lucile and Bessie Attend the Commence- 
ment 226 


CONTENTS 


Chapter 

XXIV Jack Arranges a Visit to Cousin Bob 236 

XXV Lucile Makes an Unsuccessful Attempt to 

Dismiss Jack 243 

XXVI Grandmother Shaw’s Theology 254 

XXVII Jack’s Love Affairs Get Another Setback. 262 
XXVIII Another See-Saw in Jack’s Love Affairs. . 269 
XXIX The Happy Ending 276 


DIFFERENT 


i 



DIFFERENT 


CHAPTER I 

Jack Classifies Brown 

” Truth has rough flavors if we bite it through'^ 

H e is not an agnostic. He is just an ordinary 
damned fool.” In the foyer of the Brown Palace 
Hotel, Denver, there is a large palm. On oppo- 
site sides of the palm back to back are two seats. On one of 
the benches are seated a handsome old clergyman and his 
well-dressed daughter, on the other, two college students. 
Jack Venator, tall, lean, and handsome, and Bob Russell, a 
little above medium height, fat, robust, and smiling. 

It was the taller of the two youths who unwittingly at- 
tracted the attention of the clergyman and his daughter by 
the somewhat startling pronouncement with which the chap- 
ter opens. On observing a young man, an upper classman of 
the same college, entering the hotel. Bob had remarked: 
“Here comes Brown, hear him talk philosophy and tell us 
how deeply he has been reading. Do you know Brown 
thinks he is an agnostic.” 

Venator retorted: “He is not an agnostic, he is just an or- 
dinary damned fool.” 

The clergyman on the other side of the palm was visibly 
shocked but his effort to disguise from his daughter, the fact 
that he was interested, was unsuccessful. 

Brown fulfilled Bob’s prediction: “Hello Jack, hello Bob, 
I have just been reading Hume’s argument against miracles. 
I tell you it is great. Have you ever read it?” 

9 


10 


DIFFERENT 


Jack answered: “Yes I have read it and I do riot think 
it is great/’ 

“Can you give the argument?” 

“Sure, is this not a fair statement: there are no variations 
from the laws of Nature; there are many examples of un- 
trustworthy human testimony ; therefore no amount of human 
testimony can prove a miracle?” 

“Yes, that seems all right, and it seems to me unanswer- 
able.” 

“You had better take your course in logic over again. You 
gump, don’t you see that he begs the whole question in his 
major premise. His first assertion is that there has never 
been any variation from the laws of Nature. That is begging 
the question. That is the whole point at issue. That is 
starting out to prove that a miracle could never have oc- 
curred by saying that they never have occurred.” 

Brown was unable to answer Jack’s refutation and became 
angry exclaiming, “Oh, you think you’re smart. You want 
to show off your logic. Besides you are insulting, you called 
me ‘a gump.’ I will not talk to you any more.” 

“I don’t want to talk to you. Trot along.” 

Brown left in high dudgeon. Jack turning to Bob ex- 
claimed, “It is too bad to treat a fellow like that, but I just 
can’t help it. Brown always has the same effect on me that 
a red rag has on a red bull. 

‘Some men there are love not a gaping pig; 

Some are mad if they behold a cat; 

As there is no firm reason to be rendered 
Why he cannot abide a gaping pig; 

Why he a harmless necessary cat; — 

So I can give no reason nor I will not 
More than a lodged hate and a certain loathing 


JACK CLASSIFIES BROWN 


II 


I bear Antonio, that I follow thus, 

A losing suit against him.’ ” 

“Oh, cut out the Shakespeare stuff. Jack. Cut it out, cut 
it out, cut it out!” 

“Right you are Bob. That was inexcusable. Please kick 
me.” 

Bob proceeds to kick him, and Jack exclaims: “Cured, 
let us go and feed.” 

“Sure, come along. My desire to feed is limited only by 
my ability to pay.” The two boys move toward the dining 
room unconscious of the presence of the dignified gentleman 
and the pretty school girl behind the palm. 

The clergyman said to his daughter, “I fear the young 
men of today lack reverence; but that was certainly a good 
answer to Hume’s argument.” 

The young woman made no comment, but proposed that 
they go to breakfast. Her father consented and on entering 
the dining room sought a table as far away from the college 
men as possible, placing his daughter with her back towards 
them. She laughed and said, “Daddy you are very obvious. 
Are you afraid that I shall have my faith shaken in Hume’s 
argument against miracles?” 

“There was nothing wrong with that young man’s refuta- 
tion, but I fear that those are two wild reckless young per- 
sons. I do not wish to talk about them.” 

His daughter retorted, “Isn’t that just a little like the fel- 
low they call Brown?” 

Her father ignored the question and asked her what she 
would like for breakfast. 

An hour later Lucile Hammond, the clergyman’s daugh« 
ter, was standing by the high iron fence that, in Denver 
separates the station from the railroad tracks, alternately 


12 


DIFFERENT 


looking out at the shifting trains and idly watching the 
gathering crowd. With her bright young face, modest car- 
riage, and pretty costume she made a pleasing picture. Jack 
later, writing to a college chum described her: “She was a 
symphony in brown ; brown hat, brown eyes, brown travelling 
costume, brown shoes, and a sun browned complexion, 
lighted up by a dash of red on each cheek.” 

Tired, dust begrimed travellers, as they trudged by, carry- 
ing heavy valises, smiled as they passed. The corners of their 
mouths turned up instead of down, and they looked the hap- 
pier for having seen her. 

At a little distance near the exit to trains stood Jack Vena- 
tor. Tall and slim, in contrast with some of the burly travel- 
lers about him he seemed almost fragile; but the trained eye 
of a physical director noting his square shoulders, strong 
looking neck, and the strength with which he moved about 
when he changed his position would have detected in him an 
athlete of no mean pretentions. His active figure, dark curly 
hair, dark quick eye, and clean cut features, attracted the at- 
tention and gained the approval of the young woman in 
brown. 

She heard him ask the man at the gate: “Is the train for 
Chicago ready?” The gate-man answered that the train was 
open, and a smart young official, in a very new uniform, just 
outside the fence said with a pompous gesture: “There 
the train is, sir, right there.” Jack said, “You couldn’t bring 
it in, I suppose.” But his attempt at humor was lost on the 
self-conscious young man in buttons. 

Jack passed through the gate and got aboard a day coach. 
Selecting a seat on the left side of the car near the middle, 
he placed his hat in the rack above, and then remembering 
that there is a better outlook from the other side, h,e crossed 
the aisle to the seat opposite leaving his hat in the rack where 


JACK CLASSIFIES BROWN 


13 


he had placed it on entering. 

Just before the train started, the clergyman and his daugh- 
ter got aboard and entering the same car, found only one 
vacant seat, immediately in front of Jack. This they were 
compelled to occupy. 

As the train began to move. Bob swung aboard, found 
his friend Jack and took a seat beside him. 

The conductor passed through the train collecting tickets 
and distributing checks. As he took Jack’s ticket he looked 
in the rack above for his hat. Jack pointed to the rack 
opposite. When the conductor took the hat and was slipping 
the green card board into the band. Jack said, “I suppose you 
furnish hats for green slip decoration to passengers who have 
none.” 

The conductor replied, “Yes, always. I was just about to 
start back to get you one, when you pointed out your hat.” 

The boys laughed appreciatively at the conductor’s humor. 
Miss Hammond, without betraying any interest, was enjoy- 
ing the colloquy, while her father, somewhat to his own dis- 
gust, found himself listening to the persiflage going on be- 
hind him. 

The conversation of the boys drifted onto college matters. 
They talked in a natural tone, as though they had nothing to 
conceal. They were evidently not talking to be heard, but 
were making no effort not to be heard. 

The sharp ears of Miss Hammond easily caught everything 
that was said. 

“Say, Jack are you going to try for the Foot-ball Team 
this year?” 

“Oh, yes, I have been trying for it for years, and have got 
the habit.” 

“Same here. I think we’ll make the scrub-team this time.” 

“Yes, I guess we shall probably herd with the scrub 


14 


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ladies.” 

“Jack you ought to make the ’Varsity team. You are one 
of the strongest men in college and I think one of the best 
players.” 

“I am strong all right but am not heavy enough. I am 
short on avoirdupois.” 

“How are you and Buller going to live together on the 
squad, if you make the Scrub?” 

“I guess I shall have to lick the Bull before the season is 
over. Perhaps more accurately, I shall have to fight him. 
He is pretty sure to lick me in the end.” 

The loyal Bob replied : “He’ll do nothing of the sort. You 
can lick any man in college. You are a regular threshing 
machine when you get started.” 

“My discretion usually keeps me from starting. Yes Bob- 
by, he’ll lick me all right, but you ought to see what I’ll do 
to him, while he is doing it. I have something to wager that 
he will never try to thresh me again.” 

“I’ll bet a dinner at ‘Grogan’s’ that you will win out.” 

“All right. I’ll go you, and I’ll not let him do me, just to 
keep from paying for the dinner, although that would prob- 
ably ruin me financially for a month. However, I do much 
fear that I shall not have to pay.” 

The boys now fell into a discussion of the selection of their 
courses for their Junior year and other matters less dramatic 
and less interesting than foot-ball aspirations and personal 
feuds. 

It might perhaps be well to explain to the reader how such 
a fashionably dressed young woman as Lucile Hammond is 
found riding in an ordinary day-coach. Dr. Hammond had 
conscientious scruples against spending money on “useless 
luxuries.” Besides he claimed very justly that the atmosphere 
is better in the coach with window? raised and no screens. 


JACK CLASSIFIES BROWN 


15 


He somewhat humorously declared that he would rather be 
dirty and comfortable than clean and uncomfortable. 

Lucile rather enjoyed the situation, but when travelling 
alone, to and from the school that she attended in the East 
she always took a chair. 

If Jack and Bob had been asked why they were not in the 
chair car, they would have frankly declared that they did not 
have “the price.” 


CHAPTER II 


An Adventure 

‘'Perdition catch my soul. 

But I do love thee! And when I love thee not 
Chaos is come again/' 

T he Reverend Doctor Hammond and his daughter 
after a day and a night in Chicago resumed their 
journey. As they passed along the platform towards 
the Pittsburgh train they saw Jack Venator looking from one 
of the coach windows. 

Doctor Hammond said, “There is that ubiquitous repro- 
bate again.” 

His daughter replied, “A very interesting reprobate, is he 
not?” 

■ ’■ not want you to be interested in him or his kind. I 
have already told you that I do not want to talk about that 
young man.” 

“I wonder why you do it then. Daddy dear. Did I start 
this conversation?” 

“True, I was surprised into commenting on his objection- 
able presence; but let us drop the subject.” 

The clergyman then selected another coach and removed 
his daughter out of sight and hearing of the college boys. 

In the afternoon a broken shaft on the locomotive delayed 
the train for some three hours. According to their various 
inclinations the passengers tried to amuse themselves. Some 
sat stolidly and smoked ; some were immersed in popular 
novels ; some discussed with much noise and little wisdom the 

i6 


AN ADVENTURE 


17 


most important questions of the day; some, among them Jack 
and Bob, played Bridge ; and others wandered aimlessly about 
outside the coaches. 

Shortly Jack and Bob tired of their cards, and joined 
those who had taken to the fields. They did not leave the 
train however before Dr. Hammond passing through their 
car, saw them playing what he believed to be a very sinful 
game. 

As they walked about they saw Lucile as she disappeared 
down a narrow ravine, through which there gurgled a pretty 
brook. She was alone. 

Jack said, “If she follows the stream far into that narrow 
gorge, she may run into something she is not looking for. We 
are getting into the land of the tramp. Let us follow along 
the top of the ravine. See, a bank of gravel forms this side 
of the valley. If we are needed we can slide down the bank 
right into the midst of the fray.” 

Bob exclaimed, “I hope there will be a fray. I need some 
sort of a cure for ennui.” 

“I am not sure that I do. Bob. I do not wish the lady in 
brown to get into any danger.” 

“Poor Jack you’re sure hard hit.” 

“Yes, I am. I’ll just tell you how hard hit I am. If 
she would agree (which she wouldn’t), I would go right off 
and marry that girl right now without knowing her name, 
or where she lives or her antecedents, or anything about her. 
I have never seen a girl with a face like her’s. There is no 
other girl with a face like her’s.” 

Bob replied with a rhyme that had just come out of the 
west : 


I’d sigh for her. I’d try for her. 

I’d drink Big Muddy dry for her. 


i8 


DIFFERENT 


I’d boot for her, I’d shoot for her, 

A rival come to suit for her. 

I’d cry for her. I’d lie for her 
But hang me if I’d die for her.” 

Jack laughed and answered, “Well I would be willing to 
take a mighty big risk.” 

“I don’t blame you old man, if I were not engaged to the 
dearest girl on this old globe, I should fall in love with her 
myself. She has a very sweet face.” 

“I would see that face at once in a crowd of ten thousand 
people. It is not only a sweet face but it is full of fun and 
intellectuality and everything a face ought to have,” Jack de- 
clared, and quoted: 

“A creature not too bright or good 
For human nature’s daily food 
For transient sorrows gentle wiles 
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.” 

adding, “I make no apology.” 

By this time they had advanced a considerable distance 
along the brink of the gorge. Bob broke in with, “Oh, cut 
out the poetry. Did you not hear a rustle in the bushes be- 
low?” 

Lying down flat on the ground to avoid starting a fall of 
gravel they peered over the edge and saw an ill looking tramp 
emerge from the bushes and advance on the unconscious 
school-girl, who filled with the joy of being out of doors, 
was all unapprehensive of danger. 

Jack cried: “Let us slide.” 

The boys came down the precipitous slope like an aval- 
anche. Indeed they precipitated an avalanche of gravel 
down which they rode tp the bottom of the ravine, 


AN ADVENTURE 


19 


Jack reached the girl just as the tramp put out his hand 
to seize her by the throat. He threw all his weight and 
strength into a blow which landed on the then much talked 
of “solar plexus,” and brought the ruffian to the ground 
unconscious. Then turning his attention to Lucile he assured 
her that the danger was past. 

The tramp quickly recovered and attempted to get to his 
feet, when Bob knocked him down again. When he a second 
time assayed to rise. Bob made no effort to hinder him and he 
shuffled off down a path that led away from the disabled 
train. 

Lucile said, “I wish to thank you men very much for com- 
ing to my rescue. It was very kind : it was heroic. How did 
you happen to appear at such an opportune time?” 

Jack answered, “Well, as to the heroism, there is nothing 
very heroic in two able bodied men beating up one able 
bodied man. As to our opportune appearance, we saw you 
enter the ravine, and thinking you might encounter some- 
thing unpleasant we followed along the top. We should of 
course not have intruded if the wandering pedestrian hadn’t 
shown up.” 

Lucile shrewdly observed : “There was no time during 
the conflict when two able bodied men were pitted against 
one able bodied man.” 

Jack said, “You seem to be good in rebuttal. It is true all 
the same that our friend the enemy was taken at a disadvan- 
tage by that first blow.” 

“What an awful blow that was. I did not know that a 
strong man could be knocked unconscious by a blow of the 
fist.” 

“Read up the sporting pages of the daily papers, and study 
their discussion of the solar plexus and you will learn how 
it is done.” 


20 


DIFFERENT 


“I decline to read about prize fights, but I shall study up 
the solar plexus, although I am not quite sure whether I 
ought to go to my Astronomy or my Physiology for informa- 
tion.” 

“I suppose that means that you are not sure whether I 
got results because of my lucky star or because the blow was 
well placed. I assure you it was not my lucky star. I am 
not at all sure that the travelling man would not have gotten 
back at me, if my chum had not introduced his wind-mill 
operations just at the psychological moment.” 

Bob interposed: “Oh, forget it Jack. What I did was 
easy. I just delivered the goods after the package was all 
done up and ready to send out.” 

Jack said: “Commend me to the man who can deliver the 
goods.” 

Lucile laughed and again thanking them said, “I do not 
wish my father to know anything about this adventure, I 
trust both of you to help me keep my secret. I hope we shall 
meet some time.” And she tripped away toward the train. 

Jack said sotto voce to his companion, “Good lord Bob! 
she thinks we haven’t met.” When Jack said, “Good Lord,” 
he said it in a way that indicated that in reporting him, one 
should not spell it with a capital letter. 

“Well, you could hardly call it formal,” commented Bob. 

“Oh, I suppose she is right but it seems a little cruel. 
However there is a grain of comfort in her intimation that 
she might tolerate us if we were formally introduced. Strange 
are the ways of woman! If one had rescued a man from a 
predicament like that he would straightway have been taken 
possession of and borne off and introduced to the swellest 
people in the acquaintance of the rescued person.” 

“Well, you didn’t want her to take possession of you did 
you?” 


AN ADVENTURE 


21 


“Yes, that is just exactly what I do want. I want her to 
take possession of me.” 

“You’re possessed all right.” 

“Yes but I feel pretty sure that she would not care to 
prove up her title.” 

“By the way Jack, you said you would be willing to marry ' 
the leading lady in this drama right now. How would you 
provide food and raiment and shelter?” 

“I would quit college and go to work. Of course she 
would be taking an awful chance, but if she were willing I 
should take all risks. This drivel however is of only hy- 
pothetical value. Let us push on down the ravine and 
capture the wood-pile artist.” 

They hurried off down the path taken by the frightened 
tramp, and following it for about a mile and finding no trace 
of the fugitive, they returned. Their real object, although 
not so declared by either, was not to find the tramp, but to 
give Lucile ample time to return unattended. She did not 
have far to go, and as she would be coming nearer to the train 
all the time, they were confident that she would not be taking 
any risk. 

Lucile’s escape from the protecting care of her father needs 
some explanation. Dr. Hammond after going through the 
train and around the train, and examining the locomotive’s 
broken shaft, had retired to his seat and fallen asleep. Lucile 
decided that she would do some exploring on her own initi- 
ative, and hence her exciting excursion into the ravine. 

When the boys returned they at once sought the car that 
they had seen Dr. Hammond enter in Chicago. There they 
saw Lucile demurely reading a magazine. Her father was 
still asleep. Jack and Bob had entered at the rear of the 
coach and were unobserved. Jack said, as he heard the snor- 
ing of the sleeping clergyman, “We shall not miss the noise 


22 


DIFFERENT 


of the locomotive if he keeps that up. I wonder how he does 
it. It seems an awful waste of energy.” 

Jack had spoken in a low tone, but having a voice of pe- 
culiar carrying quality, Lucile easily heard every word that 
he uttered. She laughed aloud, but kept her eyes fixed stead- 
ily on her book. 

Bob commented in a stage whisper that did not relieve the 
situation in any degree, “Now, you have done it.” Jack 
muttered in a tone easily overheard, “I’ll never use my mouth 
again for anything but to put food into it. Let us fade 
away.” The boys vanished. 

They swung off down the track, and after walking for a 
quarter of a mile. Bob keeping up a run of conversation and 
Jack plunging along in grim silence, they seated themselves 
comfortably on a pile of railroad ties. Jack solemnly handed 
Bob a Pittsburgh stogie. They smoked silently for ten 
minutes. Then Jack spoke, “Well Bob I guess the game is 
over, but let us not talk about it.” 

“Oh, rats! the thing you need to do is to talk. It is not 
nearly so bad as you think it is. She laughed at your remark. 
She could not be very angry while she laughed.” 

“‘Oh, no not while she laughed. After she quits laughing 
is when my goose will be cooked — cooked to a turn, done up 
brown. She is just the kind of girl that is loyal to her father 
and will resent the prating of any imbecile, whose chatter 
does dishonor to her parent. I guess I am doomed to con- 
tinue a bachelor.” 

“Jack, don’t be an ass. You have not been a bachelor very 
long yet. Besides you say yourself that you do not expect 
to be able to get married for at least three or four years.” 

“Yes, I am certainly an ass; but you do not need to rub 
it in.” 

“Oh, well, cheer up: An ass is a rather wise old bird. 


AN ADVENTURE 


23 


Now there was Balaam’s ass that was wiser than his mas- 
ter.” 

“The only difference between the accomplished animal that 
you mention and myself is that he opened his mouth and 
spake wisdom and I opened my mouth and — and — well, let 
us take a final crack at that old chestnut and say that I 
opened my mouth and put my foot in it. I do not know 
why: it was probably because I sucked my toe when I was 
a baby.” 

“Bob answered this deliverance with, “I see you are com- 
ing back to normal nicely. I think we may venture to go 
back to the coach.” 

“Yes, I will go back to my own place.” 

The boys arrived just in time to catch the moving train. 

After they were comfortably seated Jack said, “Have you 
observed that when we speak of the girl in brown, we con- 
tinually call her, ‘she’? The personal pronoun is very useful 
but one does not like to be confined to it. Bob, there is some- 
thing I wish you to do for me.” 

“Name it old man, and it’s done.” 

“You shadow the girl in brown and her austere sire when 
they leave the train at Pittsburgh. My prophetic soul tells 
me that they will either stop there or transfer there. In 
either case, they will probably go to the baggage room. Your 
job is to see their trunks. You may possibly find out the 
present name of the future Mrs. Venator.” 

“I’ll do it. Just watch me!” 

When the train steamed into the Smoky City, Jack dropped 
off the train and disappeared. Bob got off leisurely and soon 
saw Dr. Hammond and his daughter leave the train. He 
stooped down and untied his shoe and occupied himself in 
tieing it until they had passed him. He then followed them 
to the baggage room, where he ostensibly and ostentatiously 


24 


DIFFERENT 


went through his pockets in search of his checks. He em- 
ployed himself in this way until the Hammonds had checked 
their trunks. His search suddenly ended, and he quickly 
had his trunk and Jack’s transferred and sought his chum. 
When he found him, he greeted him with, “I tell you Jack, 
I’m great. I’m a Sherlock Holmes. I get results. I saw 
the whole process of transfer. They checked their trunks to 
Whitestown ; and crowning triumph of my act I saw in small 
neat letters on the end of one of the trunks, ‘Lucile Ham- 
mond, 1 86 Penn Ave., Whitestown, Pennsylvania.’ ” 

“Bob, you’re white. You’re Bob-White. You are every- 
thing that is first rate. I could fall upon your neck and 
weep.” 

“Please do. I’d like to see how you look when you weep.” 

“The impulse is over. My tears are dried ; but I am tre- 
mendously obliged to you. If ever you need me Bob, in love 
or war, you may count on me to the shedding of blood.” 

“Oh, don’t mention it. A man of my genius does little 
things like that easily. But that is not all. Oh, no, not by 
any means all of the information that I have accumulated. 
Jack I suppose you have no idea who Lucile Hammond is?” 

“She is probably a princess in disguise and the old gentle- 
man is her chaplain to whom she says her prayers. She is not 
however very well disguised. She has a royal look about her 
that gives the whole thing away.” 

“Oh, Rats!” 

“It seems to me you refer to that pestiferous rodent with 
unnecessary frequency. But go on and say it.” 

“Brace yourself for the glad news — Jack, she is the room- 
mate of my sister Bessie, at Wellesley.” 

“Bob, you’re bully. It is bully of you to have a sister and 
to have her at Wellesley; but to have her at Wellesley and 
rooming with the lady in brown!— That opens up vistas of 


AN ADVENTURE 


25 


opportunity that it staggers me to contemplate.” 

“If you will just stop a bit to think about the difficulties 
ahead it will cure you of the staggers. I do not know her. 
I can not go to see her. I cannot even get an invitation to 
go to see her. I am not even sure that permission could be 
secured to have Miss Hammond present if I should call on 
my sister at Wellesley. I am not sure your ‘symphony in 
brown’ would want to be present if she had permission. I am 
not sure that my sister would play the game. I am sure that 
I do not have the necessary ducats to go to Wellesley. Be- 
sides what good would it do you if I should see her? The 
only possibility after all is that she may sometime visit my 
sister. In that case, I should invite you to visit me.” 

“I stagger, again I stagger! I stagger at the difficulties. 
Can’t you induce your sister to issue that invitation for 
Thanksgiving?” 

“Well, I’ll try, but Bessie says that I never do anything 
that she wants me to do ; consequently she sometimes does not 
do what I wish her to do.” 

“I cannot imagine your refusing to do a good turn for any 
body.” 

“Well you see she sometimes insists on my going to after- 
noon teas, and I sometimes resist.” 

“Oh, I see, hence her hyperbole.” 

“I say Jack, I’ll make an awful bluff at it.” 

“Couldn’t you go to some afternoon teas for my sake. 1 
would even chew gum if it would help you Bob. Couldn’t 
you drink a moderate amount of tea to help along a little?” 

“The tea racket will not work old man. I shall not see 
a tea-pot this side of Thanksgiving.” 

“Well, get that Clay head of yours to work, and you will 
be able to dig up something. My figure is a little mixed, but 
you get the idea. You are to surprise yourself by doing some 


26 


DIFFERENT 


good hard thinking.” 

“The Thanksgiving scheme is I think, the best. My sister 
Bessie is a little inclined to flirt. She thinks that you are 
very handsome and would not mind an opportunity to play 
around with you a little. You will not be in any real danger 
for she is engaged to be married. I shall propose to her that 
we both invite our room-mates to visit us on Thanksgiving 
and liven things up a bit.” 

“Of course, there isn’t any such word as ‘liven’ Bob, but 
there ought to be. Can’t you fall in somewhere with her 
affianced and invite him to spend Thanksgiving with you. 
Then we sure will ‘liven’ things up.” 

“By the great Horned Spoon, I believe I can pull that off ; 
but what do I get out of this?” 

“An opportunity to slip off and see your sweetheart. To 
come down to brass tacks. Bob, will it not be imposing on 
your home people to let loose on them a crowd of college 
boys and school girls?” 

“Well, it is about all the Governor can swing to keep 
Bessie and me in college, but we still have plenty to eat. My 
father and mother are always glad of an opportunity to look 
over the boys and girls with whom their children associate. 
For this reason they will at once approve this plan.” 

“I am glad that for any reason they will approve the plan. 
I, however, am never able to stand inspection very well. I 
am not able to guard the door of my mouth.” 

“Oh yes, you do often make a wrong impression with your 
fool philosophizing; but there is no other man with whom 
I would as readily trust a secret.” 

“No, I never permit myself to be surprised into queering 
my friends; but an opportunity to shock a dignitary is an 
awful temptation.” 

“Yes, I sometimes feel the strain myself; but you will not 


AN ADVENTURE 


27 


encounter many dignitaries at our house. If any do drop in 
you had better avoid them.” 

“Sure thing. I shall do my best to dodge the digs; but as 
a safety measure you had better equip them with shock- 
absorbers.” 

The boys now retired to the railroad restaurant, and after 
devouring what they called “the eats,” they hurried to their 
train and left for the East. 

Dr. Hammond and his daughter, left for their home town. 
Later Lucile left home for Wellesley. 


CHAPTER III 


The Fight 

friend is worth all hazards we can run!* 

A FEW days after Jack and Bob had returned to Van 
Buren College, they were smoking a post-prandial 
stogy, in their room. 

Bob, with his usual enthusiasm for his much loved room- 
mate, said, “Jack, you are conceded to be the most brilliant 
man in our class, why not try for first honor? You could win 
out easily. Why you remember, when we were Freshmen, 
you always translated your Latin and Greek while I doped 
out one of them.” 

“Say Bob, do you know there is a good deal of poppj'^- 
cock about this brilliancy business. I translated my Latin 
and Greek while you translated one, but when you got 
through with your tasks, you had them just as well done as 1. 
I tell you after all, there is not so much difference in men. 
If you have a machine that works fast you cannot run it as 
many hours a day, and at the end of twenty-fours you 
are just about where the other fellows are.” 

“Well I should like to see you work the machine a little 
harder and knock out the grubber who is going to take ‘first.’ 
You can do it all right. I will bet on little Jackie.” 

“Too late, old man, too late. If I had started after his 
scalp in the Freshman year, I think I could have done the 
trick. But you remember I started into college with the fool 
idea that first honor men never amount to anything. I fooled 
away my time for the first year, and that hopelessly spoiled 

28 


THE FIGHT 


29 


my average grade.” 

“Well, you are bumping along mighty close to the top 
now, in spite of your happy-go-lucky way of doing it.” 

“Say Bob, let us talk about the weather.” 

“Or Lucile Hammond.” 

“Yes, the weather might suggest her — sun-shiny weather.” 

“Cut it out, cut it out! Don’t get sentimental.” 

“I never do, except in the privacy of my own room. I claim 
the right to afflict my room-mate now and then.” 

“Oh, go as far as you like. I had a letter from Bessie 
today in which she mentions Lucile, and mentions that Lucile 
mentioned you. Would you like me to read it to you?” 

“If it does not betray any confidence, I just exactly would.” 

“Well, we’ll read it first and decide about that later.” 

Bob reads: 

“Dear Old Bob:— 

It has been ages since I heard from you. Do you never 
write to anybody? 

Oh 1 I must tell you. I had a letter from Lucile just the 
day we were to start back to Wellesley. She seems to be 
quite interested in that paragon of a room-mate, that you are 
always bragging about. I’ll bet anything he is horrid ; but I 
suppose we shall know the worst on Thanksgiving. You 
know I have never seen Jack; but I think his picture is hand- 
some. Handsome men are usually conceited. Most of the 
handsome men that I know make me tired. I know only one 
good looking man that is anything else worth while and I 
am going to marry him. Don’t you think Tom is splendid? 

The asters and cosmos in our back yard are lovely. They 
make just dandy table decorations. 

Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you what Lucile said about 
Jack. I do not know whether she wants me to tell you or 
not. but I shall just write to you about it before I find out. 


30 


DIFFERENT 


This is what she wrote: ‘I would not just say that he is 
witty, I am not sure of that yet; but I am pretty sure that 
he has a fine sense of humor. The best way that I can ex- 
press my impression of him is that he is different. Under 
given circumstances he never says what one would expect him 
to say, or what anyone else would say. So I am sure he is 
never tiresome.’ 

I have a dreadful foreboding that you and Lucile will bore 
me talking about Jack, Thanksgiving — unless all her time is 
taken up talking to him instead of talking about him. 

That nasty bull pup of yours tore up my beautiful 
Wellesley banner that I brought home for the summer. Why 
don’t you take him to college with you ? Lucile says he seems 
to need education. 

I am awfully glad that you are bringing Jack Venator 
home with you for Thanksgiving, although I think I should 
like him better if you had not talked so much about him. 

Your loving and much neglected sister, 

Bessie. 

P. S. — Lucile looked your names up in the Hotel Register 
at Denver.” 

“Well, what do you think?” 

“I think your sister Bessie is a brick, if she does suspect 
me of being ‘horrid.’ ” 

“She is a smart youngster” said Bob and added incon- 
sequently, “She is sure to flirt with you Jack, and it will 
require mighty nice judgment to keep from either putting 
your foot in it or making her angry.” 

“I see. I must steer between the Scylla of capitulation 
and the Charybdis of her wrath. I shall try to manage it — 
I have lucid intervals.” 

“Jack, you can manage anything that you seriously tiy 
to nianage.” 


THE FIGHT 


31 


“Thanks for the bouquets. I may need them to lay upon 
the funeral pyre of my dead hopes. There is one thing that 
I am seriously going to try to manage, that I do not feel con- 
fident of?” 

“It is easy to guess what that is; but how about ending 
your sentence with a preposition — how about the ‘of.’ ” 

“It is sure to come Robert, it is sure to come. In the mind 
of the speaker, the ‘of’ is part of the verb. ‘Confident of’ is 
easier, more natural, and smoother than ‘of which I do not 
feel confident.’ There are a lot of old saws worked by the 
passing generation of grammarians, that will be buried with 
their bones. The development of the language is sure to 
eliminate them.” 

“Might it not be wise to wait until they are eliminated?” 

“If everybody would wait, they would never find the 
limbo they merit. By the way to parse easily there ought to 
be a that before ‘they’ — the limbo that they merit. Here is 
another change that is sure to come. That that is doomed, at 
least in the colloquial. As you know, the English language 
is my favorite subject. I had almost forgotten that I was in 
love.” 

“Continue to forget it. Let us try foot-ball for a topic.” 

“Well we are at last safely counted in among the scrub 
ladies. The scrub team strikes me as a cracking good aggre- 
gation.” 

“That is a good guess. If they all had my weight and your 
‘pep,’ we would eat up the ’Varsity eleven every time we 
play.” 

“Yes, that is true, and it consoles me greatly, but it after 
all amounts to saying we could beat them if we were good 
enough.” 

‘‘Has Buller still got a grouch on ? Is he still after your 
scalp?” 


32 


DIFFERENT 


“Yes, my curly locks are still an object of his pursuit. 
Since he has made the ’Varsity team, look out for the inevita- 
ble — the clash is sure to come. I hope you will visit me at 
the Infirmary after the fray.” 

“If you stick me for that dinner, I shall leave you entirely 
to the tender mercies of the doctors.” 

The next day the “scrub team” played the regulars. When 
in the heat of a scrimmage the ball came his way, Venator 
fell upon it. Buller attacked him and tried to get possession 
of the ball, saying “I had that ball before you fell upon it.” 
The umpire approached and Venator rising, replied with 
some heat, “You lie, and you know that you are lying.” Bul- 
ler struck at Jack, and failing to reach his adversary, re- 
ceived a vicious blow on the eye. He then attempted a rush, 
but was met by a swinging underhand blow on the point of 
the chin which knocked him down. 

He however sprang immediately to his feet and aimed 
another blow at his agile opponent, and again failing to 
reach him, was punished by an ugly punch in the mouth. 

This greatly angered him and he rushed upon Venator 
with the fury of a mad bull, and succeeded in closing with his 
intended victim, not however, before a thump on the nose 
caused a profuse flow of blood and a blow on the other eye 
still further disfigured him. 

The two young athletes fell together, and rolled over and 
over upon the ground in a fierce struggle. Jack landing on 
top, knowing that it was only a matter of seconds when he 
would be under again, attempted to break loose. Buller took 
advantage of this to regain his feet. Jack securing a footing 
at the same time, but failing to break away. The wrestling 
was continued on their feet. Jack’s superior skill, however, 
was little use as long as he remained in the bear-like grip of 
the powerful half-back. 


THE FIGHT 


33 


After a fierce but brief struggle, they again fell together. 
Jack struck his head against a flat stone and was knocked 
senseless. He very quickly regained consciousness, but found 
himself pinned down on his back with one of Buller’s knees 
on each arm. Buller choking with passion said, “Well, have 
you got enough?” 

Jack with his fighting smile still on his face replied, “Yes, 
I guess the game is over for this time.” 

Buller further enraged by the smile, seized Jack’s hair, and 
striking his head against the flat stone on which he still lay, 
again rendered him unconscious. He then sprang to his feet 
and in his blind fury raised his foot to tramp on Jack’s face. 
Bob sprang forward with a base-ball bat in his hand which 
he had snatched from a spell-bound Freshman, a look in his 
laughing blue eye that no one had ever seen there before — a 
look that meant murder. 

Fortunately, at this instant, two Seniors belonging to the 
University team seized Buller and pulled him back. 

Bob exploded : “You beast, if you had tramped in Jack’s 
face I would have killed you.” 

One of the Seniors commented “By the Lord, I believe he 
would and Buller it would have been justifiable homicide.” 

Buller was a sorry sight as he glared about him. Both 
eyes were blackened, hk lips were cut and swollen, and his 
face and shirt were covered with blood from the ruptured 
vessels of his nose. 

In a moment Jack regained consciousness and was soon 
again on his feet, cool, smiling, and debonair and with no 
visible marks of the fray after he had replaced his hat. He 
had an enormous bump on the back of his head near the top 
but this was covered. 

He looked quizzically at Buller. “Say, Bull, you see it 
costs something to lick me.” 


34 


DIFFERENT 


“If these huskies had not pulled me off, I should have 
spoiled your beauty, of which you are so proud.” 

Bob interposed, “If you had, you would not have lived two 
minutes to enjoy it.” 

Jack put his arm around Bob. “Say old man, you are 
the real hero of this occasion. You are the only man who 
would have acted from wholly justifiable motives, and at the 
same time you are the only man who would have taken the 
risk of a penitentiary offense. But see the glare in his bonny 
blue eye. Bob you have the regular Berserker rage. It is 
well for you Bull that you were pulled off just at the op- 
portune moment or you would be a dead man just right now.” 

“Oh, I will get your blue-eyed chum later.” 

Jack laughed a most provoking little laugh. “After you 
have doctored yourself up a little and thought it over a bit, 
you will never tackle either of us again.” He never did. 

The president of the college. Doctor Haines, appeared on 
the scene and cited Jack and Buller to meet the Faculty at 
once. He summoned Bob, and the two Seniors, Smith and 
OTool, who had rescued Jack, to come along as witnesses. 

When they were all assembled in the office, the president 
was plainly amused, as he looked at Buller. He had an ill 
concealed fondness for Jack, although this irrespressible youth 
had given him perhaps more annoyaAce, in one way and an- 
other, than any man in college. The boys said that the presi- 
dent swore by Jack. 

Dr Haines turned to Jack, “Venator, you are meeting the 
Faculty with dangerous frequency.” 

Jack smiled and said, “Well, Doctor, I am always trying 
to reform.” 

The president ignored his reply. “Buller what have you 
got to say about this matter.” 

“Well, Venator called me a liar and I licked him.” 


THE FIGHT 


35 


“Jack, how about it: is that correct?” 

Venator knew when the president called him Jack, that 
he would not be hard on him. “He told a lie that he knew 
to be a lie, and I ventured to classify him — He licked me all 
right.” 

The president had to laugh and could not resist saying, 
with a glance at Buller, whose character he suspected, “I 
never should have guessed it Jack. You may have been 
thrashed but you do not seem to be much chastened.” 

Dr. Haines did not for a moment doubt Jack’s word when 
he said that Buller had lied, but in order to be perfectly fair 
he took the testimony of Smith and O’Tool. They told the 
whole story of the fight fully and fairly. They agreed that 
Buller had not touched the ball before Venator fell upon it. 
They said that Buller was “setting up a bluff.” 

The president asked them why they had pulled Buller back 
just as he approached. He shrewdly guessed that it was not 
merely to stop the fight. They acknowledged that it was 
to prevent Buller from tramping in Venator’s face after he 
had said “enough.” 

Jack knowing full well that Bob had not done anything 
for which he would likely be punished, interposed, “Doctor, 
the real villain in this tragedy is Bob. He was ready to 
commit murder, when Buller was about to trample on my 
fatal beauty.” 

The students always wondered that the president could 
endure Jack’s impudence. Dr. Haines was wise. He was an 
excellent judge of men. He saw that in spite of his mock 
philosophizing and grandiloquence and banter. Jack was at 
bottom honest and truthful and courageous. Moreoever he 
knew that Jack admired him and trusted him and that he 
would take any punishment that he would impose, without 
whimper or criticism. As Jack himself would have expressed 


36 


DIFFERENT 


it, “He would take his medicine like a man.” He loathed 
the spirit manifested by Buller in his attempt to disfigure a 
vanquished foe. He however looked sternly at Venator and 
said, “Jack, you used an epithet which is hard for any man 
to bear be he right or wrong and this precipitated the fight. 
Consider yourself reprimanded.” 

He then turned to Buller and smiled broadly. “Buller, 
you seem to have been sufficiently punished. Gentlemen you 
are dismissed.” 

Buller left hastily for his room to bathe his battered coun- 
tenance. 

As Jack and Bob passed out together. Jack said, “Prexy 
is a peach. He did not even warn us not to let anything of 
this kind occur again. Down deep in his heart he knew that 
Buller got what was coming to him. I think he was even a 
bit disappointed that I got licked. He is fair and he is just. 
If that man would sentence me to penal servitude, I should 
not even enter a protest. I should be sure that I deserved it. 
Bob you’re a peach too. I do not think that I am naturally 
blood-thirsty; but I cannot help having a feeling of satisfac- 
tion when I think of what would have happened if Buller 
had tramped in my face.” 

“I shudder when I think of it” Bob replied, and added 
solemnly, “But Jack it would have happened.” 

“Yes, Bob I know. After the experiences of this day, 
nothing could ever break our friendship. There is no crime 
you could commit Bob, that would shake my friendship for 
you.” 

“You go home and put ice on the protuberance on the back 
of your head. I am off for the swimming pool. Meet me 
at Grogan’s at 6 o’clock.” 

“Oh, yes, the dinner, sorry to have stuck you Bob.” 

“Don’t worry about that. It was the result of an accident. 


THE FIGHT 


37 


If your head had not hit that stone — 

“To use your favorite expression, I would observe, ‘rats.’ 
Don’t let us do any explaining Bob. Besides it only hastened 
the inevitable. With his weight and his ability to endure 
punishment, he was sure to win in the end. Anyway, I feel 
pretty well satisfied, when I think of how he looked, after 
he had won. I suppose we must grant him some courage.” 

“Yes, the kind of courage a bull has when he attacks a 
locomotive. The kind of courage an animal has that has not 
sense enough to know what he is up against.” 

“Bob, if you get any madder, you will become eloquent 
and figurative.” 

With a smile that was good to see, the boys parted. 


CHAPTER IV 


Jack Defends His Altar 

''His worst fault is that he is given to prayer; 
he is something peevish that way; but nobody but 
has his fault — but let that pass/" 

T he opening of Wellesley was deferred for a week on 
account of certain repairs in process, on the dormi- 
tories. Dr. Hammond had been invited to preach in 
Philadelphia. Taking his daughter with him he filled his 
pulpit engagement; and finding that it was still a few days 
before it was necessary for Lucile to be back to college, he 
decided to visit Van Buren, little thinking that he would 
there again encounter the young man whose conversation 
had shocked him at the Brown Palace Hotel. 

Dr. Haines was showing his guest about the grounds. 
When they came to the dormitory in which Jack and Bob 
had rooms, he took them to the second floor, where he was 
able to find a furnished room that was unoccupied. He led 
them into this apartment and explained that it would give 
them a pretty good idea of the size and furnishings of all the 
rooms in the building. 

As they approached the window, which had been raised, 
they overheard the following conversation between Jack and 
Denny O’Tool, who had chanced to meet just below: 

O’Tool: “Hello, Jack, what has been biting you? You 
were never in a fight since you came to college until that 
affair with Buller. Now, you seem to have formed the habit. 
I came by your door last night just as you kicked Brown out 
into the hall.” 


38 


JACK DEFENDS HIS ALTAR 


39 


Jack; “Oh, that was not a fight. That was an eviction.” 

O’Tool: “How did he come to be in your room anyway. 
It is rather notorious that you do not like Brown.” 

Jack: “Well, you see his kid brother came to town to 
visit him, and Bob being out of town for the night. Brown 
asked me if he could occupy Bob’s bed and let the boy sleep 
in his room. I good naturedly agreed to this.” 

O’Tool: “But why kick him out.” 

Jack: “The damned fool tried to annoy me when I was 
saying my prayers.” 

O’Tool: “You’re about the last man in college that I 
should have suspected of saying his prayers.” 

Jack: “I say them just as I used to do at home, — just as 
my mother taught me to do.” 

O’Tool: “My auld mother in Ireland taught me the 
same thing and I keep it up and am going to keep it up.” 

Jack (Slapping him on the back) : “Good for you old 
man. 

O’Tool (Extending his hand) : “Put it there.” 

The boys shook hands strongly — it seemed almost solemnly 
— and loped off across the campus in opposite directions. 

Dr. Hammond looked shocked. Dr. Haines smiled and 
said, “Is not a boy a queer sort of animal?” Dr. Hammond 
replied, “I think that boy they call Jack is a very objection- 
able sort of animal. He does not seem to have any reverence 
for anything.” 

The president looked thoughtful. “No, reverence is not 
Jack’s strong point. But notwithstanding. Jack, and O’Tool 
and Jack’s room-mate Bob Russel are three of the most trust- 
worthy men in college. I feel it in my bones that the stu- 
dents think me a little partial to Jack.” 

Dr. Hammond looked dignified. “I suppose you mean 
that you have an impression to that effect.” 


40 


DIFFERENT 


Dr. Haines laughed. “Oh, yes, 1 suppose that expresses 
it more properly. I am afraid Jack would say that I have 
‘a hunch’ to that effect.” 

“This modern use of slang is dreadful.” 

“And yet Jack has easily the best knowledge of the English 
language of any of our students. He insists that the great 
object of language is to express thought clearly and forcibly; 
and I do not find myself able to dispute it. In fact I suspect 
he got that idea from me.” 

“I do not think a young man who uses language like I 
heard him use now is fit to remain in a Christian College — 
the language he used when speaking of prayer.” 

“But you lose sight of the most important fact: Jack says 
his prayers — says his prayers if he has to fight for it.” 

Lucile broke in with: “I think it was just splendid for 
him to kick that blatherskite out of his room, when he in- 
terfered with his prayers.” 

Lucile confined herself to pronouns when speaking of 
Venator. She wanted to call him Jack, but did not feel 
justified in doing so. 

The great man patted her on the back, and said, “My 
dear, much as it will shock your father, I think so too — I 
think it was splendid.” 

Dr. Hammond said, “My dear Doctor Haines, you have 
been so long associated with boys that I fear that you have 
become very much like a boy yourself.” 

“I plead guilty. Yes very like a boy — very like a boy. 
At Jack’s age I fear that I was very much like him — In fact 
I hope I was.” 

Dr. Hammond thought that they had talked quite enough 
about Jack and asked to see the library. 

After inspecting the library he and his daughter left town 
by a convenient train. Jack and Bob did not know that 


JACK DEFENDS HIS ALTAR 


41 


Lucile and her father had been in Van Buren. 

When Bob returned Jack told him about his encounter 
with Brown. Concluding he said, “I kicked the philosopher 
out rather extemporaneously, and do not feel quite sure that 
I ought to have done it.” 

Bob replied cheerfully, “Sure that was the only way. 
Where did the geezer go?” 

“O’Tool put him up on a couch that he has in his room; 
but could not get anything out of him in regard to his rapid 
exit from my room.” 

“That conscience is a nuisance Jack. You are too much 
given to retrospection. Why not just kick him out and let 
it go at that?” 

“Well, I suppose it was the only way to suppress the 
nuisance. You know when Brown thinks he is being funny 
he never gets through with it, unless he is interrupted some- 
what violently.” 

“Sure, he got what was coming to him. Forget it.” 

“If I have your high approval, I shall do as you recom- 
mend, let it go at that ; but I fear it was not very hospitable 
to speed the parting guest in that way. Have you heard 
from Bessie again?” 

“You mean have I heard that Bessie has heard from 
Lucile.” 

“Well, perhaps something like that.” 

“No, Bessie will probably not write again for a month.” 

“If you can’t talk to me about Lucile, don’t talk. I want 
to get out side of some of this drivel about the ‘unearned 
increment’ on land.” 

“Go to it Jack. I think I shall take a dose of the same.” 

“I should like to have an unearned increment to my bank 
account.” 

Bob said, “Here too,” and with coats off, feet elevated, and 


42 


Different 


tossed up hair, the boys were in another minute, deep in the 
study of Political Economy. 

Although called boys, and acting like boys, and calling 
themselves boys, if one should look at them now immersed in 
study — sinewy limbs, earnest faces, and strong features — he 
would see that they were no longer boys, but men. 

There is on earth no more interesting thing to thoughtful 
men than boys just merging into manhood — There is per- 
haps no more interesting thing to the angels in Heaven. 

Perhaps the angels with a telepathic knowledge of the high 
but secret aspirations that move the souls of these seemingly 
careless fellows, unlike observing men, sit patiently and wait. 


CHAPTER V 


Some Conversations 

”Then he will talk — good gods, how he will talkT' 

T he scene changes to Wellesley, where in a prettily 
appointed room we find Lucile and Bessie — Bessie, 
bland, blonde, remotely approximating the blase ; 
Lucile dark, rosy, mischievous, and with that deep womanli- 
ness about her that is so attractive to all men. Her coun- 
tenance had a peculiar glow, or halo, as indescribable as it is 
unmistakable. The room, like that of Bessie’s brother and 
his room-mate, was profusely decorated with banners, but 
there was a feminine touch that transformed it. There were 
window curtains artistically draped ; photographs so grouped 
as not to seem too many; numberless mystifying toilet arti- 
cles, but all in order; a good blending of color, in the num- 
erous cushions, on chairs, and window seats; chairs few and 
comfortable; wall paper that matched the rug; and a small 
bookcase, which filled with books, showed little but the vol- 
umes it contained. A few wild autumn flowers and highly 
colored leaves judiciously placed made this a very attractive 
room, worthy of the pretty girls who occupied it. 

Bessie had just received a letter from Bob in which he de- 
scribed in great detail the fight between Jack and Buller, 
even telling about the dire resolution that formed in his own 
mind when Buller prepared to plant his foot in the face of 
his fallen foe. She read it aloud to Lucile, and commenting 
on it said, “I think if I had been Bob, I should have given 
Buller a rap with the ball-bat anyway — just eilough to knock 

43 


44 


DIFFERENT 


the bark off a little.” Lucile’s sunny smile faded, and she 
looked thoughtful. “No, Bessie, that would not have been 
quite fair; but if he had tramped in Jack’s face, I think Bob 
should have used the bat, and used it in just the way he 
intended to.” 

“Why, my gentle voiced room-mate how bloodthirsty you 
are. You would not have Bob commit murder?” 

“It would not have been murder. I am so glad he did 
not have to do it, but I think I can understand just how Bob 
felt. I think your brother is very much of a man.” 

“He always seems to me to be very much of a boy; but I 
suppose there was something fine, in his utter disregard for 
consequences to himself. Since you have drawn my attention 
to it, I believe Bob is all right.” 

“I am sure he is and I shall be very glad to meet him 
Thanksgiving.” 

“And, yet it is not Bob that you are thinking about at all.” 

Lucile blushed. “Well I do not mind confessing that I 
look forward with some interest to meeting this very differ- 
ent young man, who is the pet of the president of ‘Van 
Buren College.’ ” 

“How do you know he is the pet of Dr. Haines?” 

Lucile related, with Dr. Haines’ comments, the conversa- 
tion under the dormitory window. 

“Father tried to bring Dr. Haines down a peg by telling 
him that he is a boy. Dr. Haines with a laugh pleaded guilty, 
and there was not much more to be said. Dear old Daddy — 
he is one of the best and kindest hearted men in the world ; 
but he does not understand the modern young man.” 

“I suppose you think that you understand the modern 
young man perfectly.” 

“No, I have always been in school. I have never seen 
much of him. I suppose I do not understand him very well 


SOME CONVERSATIONS 


45 


but I am quite sure that Daddy doesn’t. The whole family 
seems to need some education along that line.” 

“I know one member of the family that I suspect would 
be quite willing to take it.” 

“Yes, I should like my education to be well rounded; but 
I think we had better devote ourselves just now to complet- 
ing our education in Roman History.” 

“Mercy, yes. Me for the man with the toga!” 

“I never thought of it before; but I’ll bet a cookie that 
toga is the word from which comes the slang expression togs, 
that you are so fond of using.” 

“Don’t bother me, old etymology. Let us work.” For 
three quarters of an hour there was silence in the room. Both 
girls were engaged in hard study. Lucile broke the silence. 
“B. don’t you think that Dr. Haines is a great preacher, 
and a great college president, and a great man?” 

“Well that makes him pretty great, but I believe I do. 
What deduction are you going to make from that? Jack is 
sure to come in somewhere.” 

Bessie laughed. “Dr. Haines said that he hopes he was 
like Jack when he was a boy.” 

Bessie shrewdly remarked, “Yes, I see. Your Father’s 
antipathy for Jack has raised a question in your mind and 
you are trying to defend him against the impression made by 
your Father.” 

“B., I think that is about the most profound remark that 
you have ever — well perpetrated. If you don’t look out you 
will learn to think.” 

“Oh don’t dodge, I know how your mind was working. 
Now as to Jack — I do not often give advice. I usually have 
to take it ; but don’t you form any fixed opinion of Jack until 
you know him well, Since you have pointed it out to me, I 
see that Bob is very much of a man. Now, Bob wouldn’t 


46 


DIFFERENT 


choose Jack for his most intimate friend if he were not all 
right. Of course, Bob would not care a rap if Jack did 
sometimes shock very dignified people, and professionally pious 
people. He would rather like to have him do it ; but when it 
comes to the things that are really essential to character, Bob 
would have none of him if he did not ring true. I confess 
none of the things that I have heard about Jack shocks me 
in the least; but I do get tired hearing Bob talk about him, 
and here now you have begun the same song right in the 
midst of the sacred precincts of our sanctum.*’ 

“That is quite a speech. You ought to commit that 
and deliver it at the next meeting of our Literary Society 
Although it would displease Daddy, I too have to confess 
that I have not been shocked. When 1 think over the cir- 
cumstances in which he has figured, I can not think of any 
other things that he could have said or done on any of these 
occasions that would have been quite as appropriate as what 
he did say and do. That is somewhat complicated but you 
are rather intelligent.” 

“Thanks awfully, but why do you not say Jack instead of 
‘he?’ You said it once today and you know you always want 
to say it.” 

“I think I shall; but let us drop Jack for the man with the 
toga.” 

The girls resumed their Roman History. 

Another quarter of an hour, and the History, as they 
thought, was sufficiently well prepared. 

Lucile again broke out: “B. when I think of how we 
talked a while ago it makes me feel quite dignified and grown 
up. Why we didn’t say lovely or elegant, or splendid or any 
of those nice easy natural words that we like to use, and our 
English teacher condemns. We talked like a book,” 

“Sure enough. Wasn’t it elegant?” - 


SOME CONVERSATIONS 


47 


Lucile laughed appreciatively. “It was splendid. That 
speech of your’s was lovely.” 

“Say Hammond, Fm just about as proud of your brains, 
as Bob is of Jack’s. You’re sure to take first honor, if you 
can keep your pace for three more years. Why your knowl- 
edge of the Bible will put you so far ahead in that one stud)^ 
that it will leave nobody any chance on the average. Your 
sure to get the valedictory.” 

“I do not want it particularly, but I am dreadfully afraid 
I’ll get it, if you and two or three others who really have 
some head, don’t brace up a little. As to the Scripture that 
is one of the many things I have to thank dear old Daddy 
for. Daddy is really a grand man, if you can once get through 
the hard shell of prejudices with which he has surrounded 
himself and get to know him.” 

“You bet! I suspect as you grow older you will find out 
that he is right about a lot of things — I do not mean about 
Jack. He is dead wrong about Jack.” 

“I don’t believe I want to talk about Jack all the time.” 

“No, you want to think about him.” 

“I want to write to Daddy; but I do not dare to write 
about him. The him does not refer to Daddy.” 

“Oh, I had no difficulty with the pronoun. I believe 
I’ll surprise Bob by answering his letter.” 

The two girls are immediately immersed in the composition 
of two very different letters — different mainly because of the 
persons addressed. 

A few days later Bob called Jack as he was about to leave 
their room, “Say, old man, do you think you could listen to 
a letter from Bessie. I did not expect to hear from her for 
a month. She must have found a postage stamp that she 
didn’t know she had.” 

“If your sister tells me as many things that I want to know, 


48 


DIFFERENT 


as she did in her last letter, I’ll listen until the sun goes 
down on my — on my ecstasy. Let us hear the words of wis- 
dom as spoken by the prophet Bessie.” 

Bob reads: 

“Dear old Bob : 

I shall surprise you and myself by answering your letter 
without delay. Not that I have anything to say; but Lucile 
is writing to her Dad, and there does not seem to be any- 
thing else for me to do. I wrote to Tom last night or I 
should not think of wasting time on you. 

We read your description of the fight with many thrills. 
You should have seen the bonny brown eyes of my gentle 
room-mate blaze up when I read of Buller’s attempt to dis- 
figure Jack. She was really quite bloodthirsty. If Buller’s 
foot had landed, and you had murdered him, I believe she 
would have approved of it. But oh Bob, do be careful and 
never, never, get into a situation again where you will be 
tempted to commit murder. Wouldn’t it be awful to be the 
sister of a murderer? It scares me to think about it. I am 
afraid Jack is a little of a dangerous fellow to be too intimate 
with, although I wouldn’t say that to Lucile for the world. 
Her Father’s bad opinion of Jack, I fear, has influenced her 
a little already. However, Lucile says, ‘When I think over 
the circumstances in which he (Jack) has figured, I can not 
think of any other things that he could have said or done that 
would have been quite as appropriate as what he did say and 
do.’ There are her exact words except the parenthesis. She 
has always avoided the use of Jack’s name. I, however, have 
taught her better. Please excuse the repetition of that word 
‘however’ — I am just learning to use it. 

Dear old Tom sent me a pillow all gorgeous with purple 
and gold. It is beautiful, but swears at everything else in the 
room. Never, never, never, tell Tom, but I keep it in my 


SOME CONVERSATIONS 


49 


trunk. Could you and Jack use it? nothing could spoil the 
look of your room, I am sure. 

Your very dutiful sister, 

B. 

Over for P. S. 

P. S. — I forgot to tell you that Lucile said just lovely 
things about you. She said that you were very much of a 
man ; and since the matter has been brought to my attention, 
I believe you are Bob. B.” 

“Jack that shows that Lucile is a great girl, a young woman 
of discernment. Bessie would never have hit upon the idea 
in the postcript in a thousand years, if somebody else had 
not pointed it out.” 

“I agree with the testimonial in the postscript. The way 
she writes about the pillow sounds like a description of 
Sennacherib’s army. Tell her to send it along. 1 mean the 
pillow — not the army. We can cover it. I still mean the 
pillow and not the army. But Bob I tell you those girls know 
something that we do not know that they know. How in the 
dickens could Dr. Hammond have a bad opinion of me, or 
any kind of an opinion of me? I did not think that he 
knew of my existence. He may have heard a little of our 
conversation on the train, but as I remember it, we did not 
use any language too strong for publication. Besides you 
talked just as much, and he does not seem to have it in for 
you.” 

“Yes, I think that is a good guess. I mean about their 
knowing too much about something. I shall try to pump 
Bessie ; but I may as well tell you that I have never succeeded 
in pumping Bessie any better than she has succeeded in pump- 
ing me.” 

“Then you may just as well throw away your pump. Be- 
sides I guess it would not do us much good to know. In 


50 


DIFFERENT 


that far away time when I shall know Lucile intimately, 
she will doubtless clear the matter up.” 

“The letter seems to have cheered you.” 

“Yes, I like that description of the blazing brown eyes. 
The thing that comforted me in her other letter was that 
little word yet. I think that is a very cheerful word. It so 
often introduces a saving clause; but the beauty of it in this 
case is that it does not introduce anything. In speaking of 
my hypothetical wit she says, ‘I am not sure, yet.’ I tell you 
Bob there is a world of possibility in that ‘yet.’ She evidently 
expects to know me better; after my break about the old 
gentleman’s nose operation, I am mighty glad even to be able 
to infer that she is willing to know me.” 

“Oh rats!” 

“I thought it must be nearly time for your favorite ro- 
dents to appear on the scene. If ever you acquire the right 
to a coat of arms, I should suggest a rat rampant on a cheese 
couchant. ‘Cheese it’ is, I believe, another of your delicate 
expressions.” 

“Don’t you think Jack there is some basis for Bessie’s 
alarm about my association with you?” 

“Yes, there is some danger — danger for your room-mate.” 

“Well, to resume, we are getting something out of Bes- 
sie.” 

“Bessie is a beneficent blessing to mankind. How is that 
for alliteration. Of course all blessings are beneficent, but 
it helps out the alliteration.” 

“Why help it out Jack?” 

“Why not? Now that I have blessed Bessie, abused Bob, 
and languished about Lucile, in the elegant language of my 
room-mate let us ‘cut it out’ and go to prunes.” 

The two boys hurried off to “Commons” to their evening 
nieal. 


CHAPTER VI 


Jack Visits the Russells 

'"True friendship" s Laws are by this rule expressed — 
Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest"" 

T he Russell place is situated in Virginia in the Shen- 
andoah Valley. An old colonial house of magnificent 
size and proportions, sits in the midst of five hundred 
acres of land of unusual beauty and fertility. The prospect 
is marred neither by the ugly breaks that occur in the rougher 
land of the foot-hills, nor the dull dead level of the prairie 
country. Wide rolling fields, on a July morning, display the 
various shades of yellow appearing in the wheat and rye and 
barley, the fading green of the oats just beginning to color, 
^ the silver green of the waving timothy, the dark green of the 
growing corn, and the still richer green of the tobacco plant ; 
a wood covered knoll scattered here and there varies the pic- 
ture and fat sleek cattle on the pasture lands give a touch of 
life and motion. All combine to form a scene that is satis- 
fying in color, outline, and manifest suggestion of prosperity. 
Even in November, while it has lost much of the glory that 
comes from living plant life, the stacks of yellow grain, the 
“fodder in the shock,” yellow frost covered pumpkins, the 
rich reds and yellows of the apples still remaining on an occa- 
sional tree, with here and there some lingering Autumn 
leaves rescue the land from the somber ugliness of the later 
months, and maintain the impression of prosperity and 
plenty. 

The “mansion house” was old, but had always been kept 
in good repair, so that it had lost nothing of its original 

51 


52 


DIFFERENT 


beauty. In fact like all houses, and most other things it had 
improved with age. It had no longer to contend with that 
subtle suggestion of the parvenu from which a house very re- 
cently built must suffer. However good the lines, and how- 
ever sure the taste of the owner, a new house, if it is large 
and costly, somehow appears just a little brazen. 

The Russell farm was not only beautiful, but it was also 
profitable. The products of the farm together with the in- 
come from some fifteen thousand dollars in money enabled 
Mr. Russell, by careful planning, to keep his son and daugh- 
ter in school, without making inroads upon his capital. 

It was to this attractive country home that Bob returned 
accompanied by his room-mate, on a crisp Wednesday even- 
ing in November, preceding Thanksgiving Day. Lucile and 
Bessie, had arrived in the morning. Mr. and Mrs. Russell, 
with the two school-girls were in the hall to greet the boys 
as they somewhat precipitately entered the front door. Bob 
greeted father and mother and sister effusively, and when 
introduced to Lucile, set about the formal announcement of 
his chum Jack Venator. 

Jack’s bearing in company was easy, not so much because 
of self-esteem, as because he seldom saw any reason to be em- 
barrassed. Sometimes by his enemies he was called an 
egotist ; but as a matter of fact he was so interested in other 
people, and in the intellectual necessity of repartee, that he 
seldom ever thought of himself at all. He pleased Mrs. Rus- 
sell by telling her that Bob resembled her. He greeted Mr. 
Russell with, “I am mighty glad to meet the father of the 
best fellow in college.” Bessie interposed, “I am awfully 
glad to meet the paragon, whose virtues Bob has sung for 
years.” 

Jack replied, “When you know me better you will be 
much more apt to find me a paradox, and at times a little 


JACK VISITS THE RUSSELLS 


53 


parabolic. Besides Bob can’t sing.” Then turning to Mrs. 
Russell, “I thank you very much for admitting me to Para- 
dise.” 

Bob mused, “Could you work paraffine into that speech. 
Jack?” 

Lucile whispered to Bessie, “If he soars much higher he 
will need a parachute.” 

Jack overheard Lucile’s whispered comment and was just 
a little troubled, but on the whole he felt that he had made 
his entrance to the Russell family with a fair degree of suc- 
cess. 

When Jack was presented to Lucile he was slightly em- 
barrassed, and she was a good deal perturbed. She tried to 
regain her poise by talking, “I am glad to meet formally 
the rescuers of the waif of the broken locomotive — I think 
you were both splendid.” 

Jack replied, “ ‘The waif of the broken locomotive’ is good, 
but we have always called you ‘the lady in brown,’ ” then 
turning to his chum, “Bob have you any idea to what geo- 
logic stratum that gravel-bank belongs?” 

Bob broke in, “Jack is not trying to show off, he is veiy^ 
properly trying to change the subject.” Just then dinner 
was announced and Jack offered his arm to Mrs. Russell, 
Mr. Russell accompanied Lucile, and Bob seizing Bessie’s 
hand trotted out with her, saying, “It seems to be the only 
alternative.” 

Bessie said, “Wouldn’t it be better to say there is not any 
alternative?” 

“Didn’t I tell you Jack that she is a smart youngster?” 
Bessie tried to look imposing and said, “Yes, I am very pre- 
cocious.” 

Bob countered with, “Wouldn’t it be better to say per- 
nicious ?” 


54 


DIFFERENT 


“Bob you are improving. It must be your association with 
Jack.” Turning to Venator, “Please pardon me for calling 
you Jack.” 

“I should refuse to pardon you for not calling me Jack.” 

“We are so familiar with your reputation, that we have 
formed a bad habit in the use of your name.” 

“You are at perfect liberty to be familiar with my name, 
but not with my reputation. As to Bob’s getting his wit 
from me, I wish to announce right here, that everything that 
is excellent about Bob he has gotten from me.” 

Lucile smiled up at him. “Mr. Venator, you never say the 
thing that any one is expecting you to say, do you ?” 

“The thing that I wish to say most just now is that I wish 
you too would call me Jack.” 

Mrs. Russell nodded approval. “Yes, Lucile please do. 
It sounds so formal to address these boys as Mr. You will 
all have a much better time if you drop all formal titles.” 

Lucile laughed. “Mr. Venator, I shall call you Jack, for 
the present, if you will call me Lucile.” 

“Will I call you Lucile! I have been wanting to speak 
to you and call you Lucile, ever since I saw you in Denver 
standing by the iron fence.” 

“Did you then know that my name was Lucile?” 

“I thought it must be. Any way I wanted to address you 
and call you by whatever lovely name had been used in the 
baptismal ceremony.” 

“Would you have been disappointed if my name had 
turned out to be Bridget?” 

“A rose by any other name is just as sweet.” 

“You wander from the subject. What I want to know 
is why you replied in the manner you did when Bessie blamed 
Bob’s wit on you, instead of saying, ‘not at all,’ as most 
persons would have done.” 


JACK VISITS THE RUSSELLS 


55 


“You did not misunderstand me did you?” 

“No, that is the funny part of it. Nobody misunderstood 
you.” 

“It is not what you say, but what you mean that counts. 
Few people make mistakes in what you mean, however you 
may say it. You see, if I had seriously disclaimed any credit 
for Bob’s wit, it would have meant something like this: oh 
yes he of course did get his wit from me, but as you see, 
I am too modest to admit it. But when I claimed credit for 
all of Bob’s virtues, it meant that it was as absurd to claim 
any credit for Bob’s wit as to claim credit for the whole 
blessed Bob.” 

Lucile looked thoughtful and then glanced up with a 
pleasant smile. “Yes I see that. I see that plainly,” and 
then archly, “I guess you must sometimes think. Jack.” 

“Yes at rare intervals, when I am properly stimulated,” 
turning to Mrs. Russell, “Doesn’t that ‘Jack’ sound good?” 

Bob said, “I didn’t hear anybody bray.” 

Jack looked around the table and said, “Now for instance 
that is a delicate turn of wit for which I claim no credit.” 

Bob exclaimed, “Oh, rats!” 

Feeling that the young people were monopolizing the con- 
versation, with instinctive politeness Jack turned to Mr. Rus- 
sell and inquired about Virginia politics. 

Mr. Russell explained at considerable length and Bob said, 
“I have been reading about the situation down here for two 
years, and you have given more information in five minutes 
than I have ever had before.” 

“The secret of that is that one here has to know the situa- 
tion.” 

“Yes, and be honest enough and perspicuous enough to 
describe it as it is.” 

“I certainly made no attempt to mislead you.” 


56 


DIFFERENT 


“You certainly didn’t; but the foggy editorials that I have 
been reading certainly did.” 

The conversation turned on farming and then on Political 
Economy, and Jack was delighted and Bob was proud to 
find how well Mr. Russell talked on every subject. 

Mr. Russell was a tall, broad, powerful looking man, with 
kind eyes, and a strong mouth. He was a man of abundant 
humor and a deep religious nature — a combination that some- 
times made him misunderstood. 

When the dinner ended, the host turned to a small table 
near his chair, and opened a well used family Bible. He read 
a chapter, and prayed simply, earnestly, and, without any 
attempt at oratory, eloquently. He made no apology or ex- 
planation. When prayers were concluded, Mr. and Mrs. 
Russell retired to the library, and the boys and girls to their 
several rooms, to dress for a singing school to be conducted 
a few miles distant, at a country school-house. 

Bessie stopped at the foot of the stairs, and called, “Bob, 
you must take Lucile tonight. I do not want you on my 
hands all evening. I must have Jack.” 

Bob replied, “Oh no. You don’t get Jack, and I don’t get 
Lucile. I invited Tom, to spend Thanksgiving with us. He 
will be here this evening. George Washington (colored) 
has gone to the train to meet him. Hark, hark, hark, that is 
the train now I” 

Bessie said, “Excuse me Jack if I look pleased. You know 
I cannot help it.” 

Jack said, “How do I look.” 

Lucile blushed, and both girls fled up the stair-way. 

Bob directed the servant whose duty it was to answer the 
door-bell to send their expected guest directly to his room, 
where he and Jack would be occupied making some slight 
changes in their dress. In a few minutes bright, alert, im- 


JACK VISITS THE RUSSELLS 


57 


maculate little Tom Allen appeared at their door, which 
Bob had hospitably left ajar. After being presented to Jack, 
Tom said, “Bob, when I thought over the house party that 
is going to be here, I tumbled to your motive in inviting me, 
all right. But who cares for other people’s motives so long 
as it is to my profit.” 

Jack declared, “The only motive that does not belong to 
me, that I ever vex my soul about is a locomotive. It some- 
times worries me by not being on time.” 

Tom said, “Yes, I have worries enough of my own.” 

Jack replied, “When it comes to motives and consciences 
and soul furniture of that kind, I have such a big job on my 
hands keeping my own shop swept up, that, much as I should 
like it, I really haven’t time to attend to other people’s 
business. By the way. Bob, speaking of locomotives, when 
is your train due?” 

Tom laughed, “Oh yes I see, just as I thought. Bob I 
shall not be surprised to hear that you are going away some 
place this evening. Sorry to have you leave us old chap.” 

Bob answered, “If you wish to see me off you will have to 
be at the eight o’clock train, old top.” 

Jack said, “Oh no Bob, we shall not risk the strain of a 
public parting. No, we shall not see you off. It is quite 
enough to know that you are off.” 


CHAPTER VII 


Jack’ s Declaration and Flight 


''Love is master of all arts — 

And puts it into human hearts — 
The strangest things to do and sayT 


T half past seven all were ready for their evening out- 



ing. Mr. Russell was well provided with vehicles and 


-^driving horses. He asked Jack if he could drive. Jack 
said, “I’ve driven a horse since I was six years old, and am 
sort of getting the hang of the thing recently.” 

Mr. Russel liked Venator’s banter and willingly entrust- 
ed him with his best horse and buggy. Tom headed the pro- 
cession with Bessie, in another buggy; Jack of course acted 
as Lucile’s escort ; while Bob on his way to the train brought 
up the rear in state, in an old one-horse surrey with a negro 
driver in front. Jack expected to be entertained by the od- 
dities of an old fashioned country singing-school and indeed 
found the old fashioned singing school; but somewhat to 
his disappointment, without the oddities. The teacher was 
a young women who had taken voice culture in Paris. 

The company present all sang well, and sang well to- 
gether. Lucile observed Jack’s well covered look of aston- 
ishment, and laughed gleefully. “Not quite what you ex- 
pected is it?” 

“No, I am from the wilds of West Virginia, where they 
have the real thing in singing-schools. In the first place, 
with us, the teacher is a man, who usually knows something 
of the theory of music, but rarely has a good voice. 


58 


JACK’S DECLARATION AND FLIGHT 59 


We seldom ever sing together, and only some of us sing 
in time. 

There is always sure to be one or more persons present to 
harrow up one’s soul with a falsetto voice, of which she is 
always proud. It is usually she. Another thing I fear I 
am going to miss, is the fight. We usually have a fight be- 
fore the session is over.” 

“I see you are becoming parabolic.” 

“Yes, perhaps a little. My father and mother are cul- 
tivated people ; but few of our neighbors believe much in the 
higher education, and they have strong nerves and are not 
disturbed by a falsetto voice. However, do not let me give 
you a wrong impression. They are a fine people. My old 
country school-mates are a very loyal genuine set of fellows. 
I believe I could go back there and rally an army to my ban- 
ner. But I am again drifting into hyperbole.” 

“I think I can see how a man might like you very much.” 

“Oh, my prophetic soul ! I see. I was not intending to talk 
about myself. I was trying to talk about them; but since 
you have brought out that idea how do you think a brown 
eyed, red cheeked young woman could like me?” 

“I really have no idea. I do not see why brown eyes and 
red cheeks would help her any in the matter.” 

“Yes, I think they would help.” 

“Oh just listen to Tom’s tenor.” 

“Why?” 

“You are certainly one of the most absurd persons that I 
have met.” 

“How?” 

“You ask such troublesome questions.” 

“What?” 

“But Bob swears by you,” 

“When?” 


6o 


DIFFERENT 


“I am afraid you are trying to make a goose of me.” 

“I am not likely to embark on any such hopeless enter- 
prise, as making a goose out of a bird of paradise. If I 
could do that I could lose Burbank anywhere in the track.” 

“I guess that must be a racing figure. It is at least racy. 
Do tell me something about Burbank.” 

Jack suspecting that Lucile had been reading up Burbank, 
which was true, answered gravely, “Burbank was first aide- 
de-camp of William the Conqueror.” 

Lucile’s quick wit told her that he had guessed that she 
was not really ignorant of the transformer of plants and ani- 
mals, and answered with equal gravity, “Burbank does not 
sound very Norman, but I am glad to know just where to 
locate him.” 

“Oh, I do not know where he was buried.” 

“Naturally not. Nobody does.” 

“Sure enough, but we are wandering away from the red 
cheeks and brown eyes.” 

“You do not seem to have wandered far.” 

“Would that I might never have to wande?- at all.” 

Lucile whispered audibly to Bessie, “What shall I do with 
Jack, he has exhausted all my resources.” 

Bessie answered, “Chloroform him.” Then turning to 
Jack, “Please go and put some coal in the stove.” 

As it was already quite warm enough, Jack replied, “I 
refuse to wander.” This somewhat prolonged conversation 
had begun just before a resting period, called “intermission,” 
and had been continued while they were relaxing. 

Bessie said to Jack, “If you wish it, I am willing to take 
you around and introduce you to every pretty girl here.” 

Jack with a quick glance at Lucile answered, “I do not 
wish to extend my acquaintance; besides too many pretty 
girls turn my head. Let us not be too precipitate and greet 


JACK’S DECLARATION AND FLIGHT 6i 


only those who chance to drift this way.” 

Bessie replied, “You of course notice that I am not urging 
you to put me through the ordeal.” 

“Sure, if I hadn’t, I should not have ventured to decline.” 

The visitors met a number of the neighborhood young 
folks, and were much pleased and a little surprised. Bessie 
explained that a large number of them were students home 
for vacation. 

As Jack and Lucile drove home through the night he said, 
“Lucile, I may as well say that I sometime intend to make 
love to you. Since I have seen you no other girl will ever do.” 

She replied, “Jack, if you are serious, I say most sincerely 
that I wish you wouldn’t.” 

“Why?” 

“Oh, that eternal ‘why!’ Because you do not belong to 
our denomination of Christians, and Father and Mother 
would never, never, never consent to have you do anything 
of the kind.” 

“That is a good many ‘nevers.’ How about the young 
lady in the case? Hasn’t she some rights?” 

“None, that either of her parents would be willing to 
respect. I ought not to say that, but wish you to know so 
that you will not cultivate your silly fancies.” 

“Lucile you have not yet answered the really important 
part of my question. How about the young lady in the case?” 

To Jack’s astonishment, but greatly to his comfort for 
years after when he recalled it, Lucile gave a quick sob. She 
then answered, “I do not know Jack, I do not know — ^You 
have no right to ask me any such questions.” 

“Well I think I know. I am not conscience-stricken about 
my violation of rights ; although I am willing to admit that 
conventionally I do not have them.” 

They stopped in the village as they passed through and 


62 


DIFFERENT 


ate ice cream and cake. When they came out to resume their 
journey home Lucile ran quickly away from Jack and got 
into Tom’s buggy. Jack was greatly surprised and very 
angry. With an effort he was able to control himself suffi- 
ciently to rescue the abandoned Bessie. Tom looked puz- 
zled ; but as he afterwards said he did not see “that it was 
up to” him to do anything. 

Bessie laughed and understood perfectly. 

Jack said, “Bessie, I suppose there must be something funny 
about this situation, but I’m blessed if I can see what it is.” 

“I think you are the funniest thing about the situation.” 

“Oh, I see. You suspect that I have been making a 
donkey of myself. Well, as I am not a good liar, I confess 
that that is a good guess.” 

“What have you been saying to Lucile?” 

“Do you really wish me to tell you?” 

“Not unless you really wish to tell me, but I know you do.” 

“Oh, Lord, so I do. Now I didn’t know that I wanted 
to tell you. I was telling Lucile that I intended sometime 
to make love to her.” 

“That is what I suspected.” 

“There is no use in telling you anything. You know it 
all without telling. Why did she scuttle off like a frightened 
partridge to the other buggy? I do not understand it.” 

“Of course not, but that was a perfectly natural thing to 
do.” 

“I do not see any reason for it at all.” 

“No nian would. What would you have her do?” 

“Well, she might have committed suicide. That would 
have been just as reasonable.” 

“Don’t be absurd. There is no use trying to explain. No 
man could ever understand it. I have no doubt Tom is just 
^s much perplexed as you are. I’ll wager he is stricken dumb 


JACK’S DECLARATION AND FLIGHT 63 


with astonishment to find himself taken possession of in this 
way by a modest gentle little thing like Lucile. I’ll bet he is 
scared dumb.” 

“Well, I’m scared all right, and I might as well be dumb 
for all the good I’m getting out of my conversation. Not that 
my instructor does not understand the subject in hand per- 
fectly, but she is convinced that her pupil lacks capacity.” 

“Oh do not be distressed about my opinion of your ability 
— It is just a sex incapacity.” 

“I hope that Lucile after her flight of offended dignity 
or whatever it is may light some where, and that I may be 
able to find her again, when we get home. Let us talk about 
the singing school.” 

This for Bessie was a fertile theme and she kept up a series 
of comments on the happenings of the evening, until the end 
of their drive. The college boy did not feel called upon to 
talk, after he had given his vivacious companion a theme. 
Greatly to Jack’s disappointment, Lucile avoided him after 
their return. This she did so unmistakably and so persistently 
and so skillfully that Jack lost all patience, and decided to 
take a train back to Van Buren on Friday morning. He felt 
that it would be rude to leave on Thanksgiving Day, or he 
would have hastened away by the next morning’s train. 

When they retired to their room, on the night of Jack’s 
rebuff, Venator confided every thing to Bob, who was as 
much astonished and puzzled as the victim of Lucile’s coup. 

Jack said, “Don’t you think Bob that it is up to me to fade 
away? Not that I have any intention of giving up; but 
maybe I had better withdraw a little for repairs.” 

“Under the circumstances Jack, old man, much as I dis- 
like to have you go, I think you are right. The possibilities 
for a fellow in your circumstances making an ass of himself 
are so numerous, that I think I should duck.” 


64 


DIFFERENT 


“Can’t you fake a telegram from the foot-ball coach, or 
some other dignitary that will sort of act as a shock-absorber 
to the house-party, when I tear myself violently away? I 
told you that you would need a shock absorber.” 

“Yes, just watch me. Little Bobbie will be right there 
with the goods. I swiped some telegraph blanks the last time 
I was at the Western Union — Now I know why. Just watch 
me.” 

“Bob, you are the most resourceful confidant that any 
poor rejected lover ever consulted. But I am becoming seri- 
ous and sentimental; let us cut that out and go to bed.” 

Thanksgiving passed as Thanksgiving Days usually do 
pass. There was much feeding and much fun and much 
frolic. Everybody seemed in good humor, and everybody 
seemed thankful. Jack and Lucile were more brilliant than 
usual, but Lucile gave Jack little opportunity to talk to her. 
Only once during the evening did he have an opportunity to 
address her; and then he said in passing: “We madly smile 
when we should mourn.” 

Both were talkative, both a little embarrassed, and both 
excited. In the midst of the merry-making their somewhat 
unusual behavior passed unnoticed, save by those in the secret 
of the estrangement. 

Just as they had finished the evening meal, a boy rang the 
door-bell as previously instructed by Bob. This wily young 
man volunteered to answer the ring, and hastening to the 
door returned with a Western Union Telegraph envelope 
in his hand. He called out cheerfully, “Here Jack is a tele- 
gram for you. It is probably from your lawyer notifying 
you that you have fallen heir to a million dollars.” 

Jack looked grave. “Oh cut out the rah rah business. A 
telegram always scares me a little. One never knows what 
he will draw.” 


JACK’S DECLARATION AND FLIGHT 65 


Then opening the message, he said, “This telegram is 
signed Sandy McPherson. Sandy is our foot ball coach — I 
will read it: ‘Dunbar arrives too late. You come tomorrow 
for practice, sure.’ ” 

Bob broke in with, “Too bad old man that you will have 
to cut your visit short ; but if you should turn down this op- 
portunity, might it not queer you for your letter?” 

Then turning to the company, “You see Dunbar is on the 
regular Varsity Team and as he cannot get back in time the 
telegram asks Jack to take his place in practice.” 

“Yes, Bob, I see that I must go early tomorrow morning; 
but I shall not soon forget my visit to old Virginia. We 
have taken in so much nourishment, that the prunes and pan- 
cakes of Commons can not stem the life-giving tide for weeks 
to come.” 

Everybody but Lucile expressed regret at Jack’s hurried 
departure. She, however, managed to trip down the front 
stairs, next morning when Jack was alone in the hall hunting 
his umbrella. 

When Jack looked up he encountered one of her dazzling 
smiles. She held out her hand and said, “Goodbye, Jack. I 
am so ashamed that I cried on our way from singing-school; 
but oh I am so glad that I did,” and then she fled up the 
stairs. Jack was so astonished that he did not get anything 
said. 

On the way to the station he related the whole circum- 
stance to Bob. His faithful chum gave a long whistle and 
remarked, “Jack she has me guessing all right.” 

“Yes, Bob, I thought it would be impossible for me to be 
more puzzled than I was; but she has certainly worked a 
few more blind alleys into the dizzy maze. I have little hope 
of getting out into the open again for many days.” 

“She has you more balled up than ever; but has she made 


66 


DIFFERENT 


matters worse, or better?” 

“That is one of the many problems on which she just now 
has us guessing. It some how seems like it might be better.” 

“Let us ask Bessie. She knows.” 

“Yes, that precocious young woman seems to know every- 
thing, Bob ; but the more she knows the less she will tell.” 

“I guess that is right. If it were not that she will know 
what it means just as soon as we tell our story, she would 
try to help us guess it out; but she will know. Oh yes she 
will know, and the more clearly she reads the signs of the 
times, the more she will help Lucile to keep us from know- 
ing.” 

“Quite right. Bessie is no use.” 

Bob accompanied his friend to the railroad coach, and as 
he shook hands said with a grin, “Good-bye Jack. I hope 
you will distinguish yourself in that foot-ball game.” 

“I do not seem to promise to make a goal anywhere just 
now; 'dum spiro spero/ A little Latin is the only thing I 
seem to be sure of,” 

The train moved away and Bob went to the ticket office 
and bought a ticket to the home town of his sweetheart, 
although, he had just returned to his own house-party on 
Thanksgiving evening. 


CHAPTER VIII 


Jack Visits the Home of Dr. Hammond 

""She is pretty to walk with, 

And witty to talk with. 

And pleasant too to think on!' 

Sir John Suckling. 

T he few weeks intervening between Thanksgiving 
Day and the Christmas holidays have passed and Jack 
is on the way to spend a week end at Lucile’s home. 
Lucile had explained to her mother that “it would be nice to 
have the same people that were at the Russell house-party.” 

Her father was not consulted, and her mother had never 
heard of Jack. 

Bob and Bessie were already at Dr. Hammond’s residence, 
when Jack arrived. Bob greeted him effusively, Bessie cor- 
dially, and Lucile in her own modest irresistible and in- 
imitable way. Mrs. Hammond received him in a very 
neutral manner. 

Dr. Hammond knew that certain young people were to 
visit Lucile ; but when he appeared he did not know that the 
visitors had arrived. When he saw Jack, he looked like a 
man threatened with apoplexy. Lucile after presenting her 
other friends said, “This is Mr. Jack Venator, the room-mate 
of Bob Russell.” 

Dr. Hammond sputtered, “Yes, yes, to be sure. I did not 
know that — that Bessie had a brother. I did not know 
that — that her brother had a room-mate. Yes, yes, to be sure 
— Bessie’s brother’s room-mate.” 

67 


68 


DIFFERENT 


Dr. Hammond dropped limply into a much upholstered 
easy chair, that happened to be conveniently near. 

Jack noted the lack of enthusiasm in the clergyman’s re- 
ception; and was much amused and a little apprehensive. 

As the head of the house, once comfortably seated thought 
the matter over, he saw that Jack’s presence was accounted 
for easily and naturally, and that any show of resentment 
on his part would make him appear ridiculous. Now Dr. 
Hammond was a very handsome man. A man who is both 
handsome and dignified always seems to be peculiarly sen- 
sitive to ridicule. Lucile’s father, while he still looked on 
Jack with suspicion and alarm, decided for the present to 
tolerate him. 

Jack attempted to relieve the situation by opening a con- 
versation with the perturbed old gentleman. 

In some way they happened upon the subject of the electric 
motors used on trolley cars, which were at that time com- 
paratively new. 

Dr. Hammond said that while he had a good knowledge 
of Physics as taught when he was in college, he was not quite 
able to understand how a current of electricity taken from a 
wire overhead could operate a motor under the car. 

Jack explained to him the electro-magnet and its applica- 
tion to machinery. His auditor was plainly interested and 
acknowledged that Jack had given him a much better un- 
jlerstanding of the subject than he had been able to gather 
from the daily papers. He said that he had never found the 
time to read the matter up in the technical journals. The 
conversation now drifted on to theology, a subject on which 
Jack did not acquit himself so well. Dr. Hammond however 
mentally conceded that the young man could not fairly be 
denominated an unbeliever. He also noted that Jack seemed 
to have a rather extensive knowledge of the Bible. He was 


JACK VISITS HOME OF DR. HAMMOND 69 


however greatly shocked at some of his intentionally humor- 
ous applications of Scripture. 

Dr. Hammond censured bitterly some contemporaneous 
atheists. Jack at once agreed with him and said, “The 
noise these fellows make always reminds me of a boy whist- 
ling, while he makes a night journey through a grave-yard. 
He does not whistle because he feels like whistling, but be- 
cause he does not wish people to know that he does not feel 
like whistling. So the atheist does not make a noise because 
he is so happy over his discovery that there is no God, but 
because he is mightily scared, least it should turn out, after 
all, that there is.” 

“Yes, I think that expresses it very well. It makes a vast 
difference what a man believes. My denomination is verj^ 
careful in all its credal statements. I think it is a most im- 
portant thing to believe the right things, and to see to it 
that every body over whom you have control believes the 
right things.” 

“It is a most important thing to believe the truth ; but you 
cannot control anybody’s belief, by authority. You can not 
make anybody believe anything.” 

“I believe in creeds, and I believe in supporting every 
doctrine proclaimed by one’s denomination.” 

“I hope the Lord has a sense of humor.” 

Dr. Hammond did not quite catch Jack’s meaning; and 
fortunately dinner was announced just in time to save the 
situation. 

Mrs. Hammond assigned the seats, placing Bob beside 
Lucile, with Jack and Bessie opposite; while she and Dr. 
Hammond occupied the ends of the table. 

The dinner passed without any great temptation to Jack 
to shock anybody. Mrs. Hammond’s manner toward him 
was yet tentative and experimental. Dr. Hammond tried 


DIFFERENT 


70 


his best to play the part of genial host, for which he was 
ordinarily well fitted. This learned theologian was a pleaS'- 
ant kindly man, whom almost everybody loved. It was 
only when he assumed the role of defender of the faith that 
be became intolerant and intolerable. 

Bob was jocular and Bessie talkative. Jack and Lucile 
were content to let others lead the conversation and both 
seemed disinclined to attract notice. At the conclusion of 
the dinner Dr. Hammond conducted family worship. In 
singing he used, by preference. Rouse’s version of the Psalms. 
When the line ended in transgression and words of like ter- 
mination, Jack in order to make out the meter sang the last 
syllables “shi-on.” As Bob afterwards said, “He came out 
strong on the ‘shi-ons’.” Lucile pronouncedly prolonged the 
last syllable, to show Jack the way; but the new syllabation 
tickled his fancy and he persisted. 

Mrs. Hammond was shocked, but at the same time mani- 
festly amused. Bob winked and then blushed when he re- 
alized how inappropriate his eye movement was. Bessie gig- 
gled but Jack looked grave as a deacon. 

Dr. Hammond was making such a noise himself as he led 
the singing that he did not notice Jack’s attempt to repair the 
meter. 

Lucile always “started the tune,” after which her father 
joined in with such fervor and vociferation that he could not 
hear anything but his own voice. 

After prayers Bessie proposed a walk; and Bob consider- 
ately accompanied his sister leaving Lucile to Jack. Lu- 
cile smiled up at him in a way that made him forget that 
he had any grievance ; and then proceeded to embarrass him 
by asking him what he meant by saying that he hoped the 
Lord has a sense of humor. 

“Well you see it seems to me if God most needs laugh, at 


JACK VISITS HOME OF DR. HAMMOND 71 


the fierce controversies of zealous denominationalists over 
nonessentials, he will be disposed to deal more leniently with 
these fierce little wind-mill fighters.” 

Lucile laughed, looked offended, then laughed again, and 
then looked offended again. At lenth she said, “Now, Jack 
that is too bad to call father a little wind-mill fighter.” 

Jack replied, “Oh, I don’t know, I think Don Quixote 
was a very admirable character.” 

“Yes, but he was a very ridiculous character.” 

“Ridiculous to men. I suspect most of us cut a mighty 
poor figure in the sight of Deity. I should say that your 
father runs as little risk as most people of being thought 
ridiculous by men.” 

“Daddy is a darling, and I do not think you know any- 
thing about how he appears to the Lord. I think it is just 
a little ridiculous for you to assume that you do.” 

“I did not assume that. I, out of the goodness of my 
heart, expressed a certain hope.” 

“Well, I guess if the Lord did not have a sense of humor, 
he would not have given you your fondness for the ridic- 
ulous; but some how your explanation still seems to leave 
poor old Daddy in a somewhat sorry plight, and I do not like 
that.” 

“Now, to be honest, Lucile, do you think the Lord cares 
for instance whether a man is sprinkled or dipped, if the 
ordinance of baptism is observed in the right spirit? Do you 
not think one might praise the Lord just as well, in a song 
that observed all the requirements of good meter and good 
rhyme?” 

“To be frank I answer your first question. No, and your 
second question. Yes; but I still do not like what you said 
to Father.” 

“I will apologize, if you say so.” 


72 


DIFFERENT 


“No, father probably had no more idea of what you meant 
than I had. You had better let bad enough alone. Besides 
the fact that you add ‘if you say so’ makes it pretty clear that 
you do not think it wise to apologize.” 

“Yes, but please notice that it shows that I am willing to 
do a foolish thing for you.” 

“I am glad I do not have the responsibility of the foolish 
things you do.” 

“You will some day.” 

“Now please Jack don’t. I think you are very interesting 
when you do not assume the role of a suitor.” 

“Oh this is neither a request or a threat: it is a prophecy — 
You will some day share my responsibilities.” 

“Really Jack I must hurry back home. Mother is just 
sure to need me for something. She always does.” 

“Why this sudden haste to return to the maternal roof? 
There is still lots of country before us. We have not come 
up against anything that we cannot get over, or through, or 
under. Indeed the way ahead seems quite open. Since we 
started out to walk, why not walk? You see Bob and Bes- 
sie are getting farther ahead of us every minute. If we turn 
back, I am afraid Bessie will get lost. I once heard of a girl 
named Bessie getting lost.” 

Lucile laughed. “Don’t worry about Bessie, Bessie always 
understands.” 

“If agreeing with you that what is unreasonable is reason- 
able constitutes understanding, she has the most robust un- 
derstanding of anybody that I have met.” 

“Oh, now Jack you are cross. If you wish to walk with 
me you will have to walk towards home.” 

Lucile turned and smiled over her shoulder at Jack. 

Jack said, “If the only way in which I can bask in the 
radiance of that smile is by accompanying you on your pre- 


JACK VISITS HOME OF DR. HAMMOND 73 

cipitate flight to your ancestral halls, I am homeward bound 
too.” 

‘‘I like your stilted style best Jack. When you descend 
to the Anglo Saxon you get too much in dead earnest.” 

“I do not intend to annoy you any more, just now; but I 
am in dead earnest all right.” 

“Oh, what a lovely moon!” 

“I am glad the individual in the moon is a man. As he 
looks down on your stampede for home, and sees me tagging 
along after you, he will understand the situation. A woman 
would think it is funny.” 

Lucile laughed aloud — a silvery, musical, perplexing and 
more or less tantalizing little laugh, and replied, “And the 
woman would be right.” 

Jack laughed too. “To vary by quotation a little, I madly 
smile when I should swear.” 

“Now Jack please be good, and let us all have a good time 
while you are here. Let us think only of the present.” 

“I should enjoy the present better if we were headed in 
the other direction.” 

“I should too, but I dare not.” 

“Well that is something. The first part of your last re- 
mark is comforting; the last part is nonsense.” 

“Jack, you never can understand, how impossible it all is.” 

“I never intend to understand, if I can help it. I’m too 
blamed intelligent: that’s what the matter with me.” 

Lucile turned to hide a blush, and said, “See Bob and 
Bessie have turned too.” 

“Sure, they cannot very well abandon the home of their 
hosts, when the daughter of the family seems determined 
to return speedily to her penates.” 

“Can you see the lady in the moon?” 

“I cannot see any lady except the one who is fleeing to the 


74 


DIFFERENT 


bosom of her family.” 

Lucile insisted that there is a lady in the moon and oc- 
cupied the time until they reached home in explaining how 
to locate her. Jack declined to try to find her, declaring that 
he was already enjoying the company of more ladies than 
he was able to understand. 

Lucile said, “I am awfully glad to hear you say that. 1 
always think I am so obvious.” 

Bob and Bessie came up with a rush, and all entered to- 
gether to find a number of Lucile’s friends who had come 
to welcome her home, and incidentally to meet her visitors 

After what Jack called a “blanket introduction,” Lucile 
proceeded at long intervals to introduce her girl friends to 
the collegian, each time drifting away immediately after and 
leaving Jack to extricate himself as best he could. 

In this way he was compelled to spend almost the entire 
evening talking to new acquaintances. He had little op- 
portunity for conversation with the distracting but elusive 
young hostess. 

Once, when they found themselves together for a minute 
between presentations. Jack said, “I repeat, ‘we madly smile 
when we should swear.’ ” 

Lucile replied, “We should never swear.” 

When Jack and Bob retired to their room for the night. 
Bob said, “Well, how does your suit progress with the fair 
Lucile?” 

Jack replied, “She is elusive, and delusive, and distracting. 
I am afraid she is getting ready to turn me down with a 
bang.” 

“Oh rats!” 

“I am glad you said that; your favorite rodent always 
comforts me, somehow.” 

“Say Jack, don’t let us cross any bridges until we come 


JACK VISITS HOME OF DR. HAMMOND 75 


to them.” 

“Oh no, I do not intend to cross imaginary streams; hut 
I seem to be getting into a country where there promises to 
be a good many bridges.” 

' ■'‘‘rwifi hot say ‘Faint heart ne’er won fair lady,’ but it 
is true all the same.” 

“Oh I have no intentions of abandoning my suit unless she 
jilts me explicitly. I shall probably not give it up even then, 
if she dimisses me, in that peculiar way of hers, which says, 
‘Begone, but I wish you would come back soon.’ ” 

“That sounds very like the description of a flirt. Jack!” 

“She acts very like a coquette, and if I were not convinced 
that she is either acting under external pressure, or fears 
that there will be opposition which she cannot resist, I should 
not put up with such treatment for five minutes.” 

“Well, I believe you are a good guesser. I think that she 
is just as much in love with you, as you are with her. The 
difficulty is that the pater familias for some reason has it in 
for you. She is scared of her dad.” 

“I have a dreadful suspicion, that what you state, in your 
own crude way, is true.” 

“If I am crude, you’re rude.” 

fear I am sometimes. Any way that is a good epigram. 
I am afraid I was compelled to be rude two or three times 
when we were out walking this evening. Sometimes a fellow 
has to knock the polish off a bit to land.” 

“Well, you usually land somehow.” 

“No boquets please. Let us go to bed. Speaking of 
boquets, I fear my couch tonight, will not be a bed of roses.” 

“Oh, don’t criticize the furniture.” 

Both prepared for bed: Jack moodily and Bob cheerily. 
After saying their prayers, the two seemingly irresponsible 
young men were soon fast asleep. Their recording angel 


76 


DIFFERENT 


probably took no note of their persiflage, but took down 
with care the fact that they had prayed. 

The next day was the Sabbath. All of course went to 
church. Dr. Hammond preached, what even the critical col- 
legians had to admit was a good sermon. 

Towards evening Lucile’s father made known that he was 
about to start out to hunt his cow, which was pasturing some- 
where on the village green, or the roads which diverge from 
the town. 

Jack offered to perform this service. Dr. Hammond told 
him that if he chose, he could ride. The clergyman’s con- 
gregation had just presented him with a large and spirited 
horse. Mrs. Hammond declared that the horse was too big, 
and too gay for her husband to drive in safety ; but the sturdy 
old gentleman insisted on using his new horse and buggy 
every day. He was a good horseman, and half expected a 
little innocent amusement when the college man should see 
his mount. 

He directed Jack to two large fields which had been thrown 
open for the purpose of plotting them into town lots. He said 
that the fences had all been removed except a part of an old 
rail-fence that formerly divided the two fields, and that the 
cow found this a satsifactory pasture. He told Jack that he 
would probably find her there, or thereabouts. 

Jack went to the stable and leading the horse out by the 
halter, by which he was tied in his stall, without saddle or 
bit the college boy sprang upon the back of the restive 
horse and was off before anybody realized that he seriously 
intended to go. Dr. Hammond could not restrain a glance 
of approval at the ease with which Venator sprang upon the 
horse’s back, and his firm seat after he had mounted. The 
horse recognized that he was under the control of a master 
hand, and trotted aimably along without trouble . or . re- 


JACK VISITS HOME OF DR. HAMMOND 77 
sistance. 

Now it happened that two of Dr. Hammond’s elders lived 
within easy sight of the abandoned pasture. They saw Jack 
approach, and at once recognized the horse. They had 
each somewhat reluctantly contributed a good sum of money 
for his purchase, and felt it incumbent upon them to keep 
their eyes upon the animal and see if he behaved as a clergy- 
man’s horse should. 

When Jack reached the field he saw the object of his search 
beyond the section of rail-fence still remaining in the middle 
of the vacant lots. 

Instead of going around the end of the detached fence, he 
whipped his horse into a gallop and scandalized the onlook- 
ing parishioners of his host by taking the obstructing rails 
with a flying leap. 

This frightened the cow which started to run; but Jack’s 
fleet steed easily passed her and headed her the other way. 
In her excitement she also jumped the rails and Jack fol- 
lowed on his gallant charger. As soon as they cleared the 
fence. Jack curbed his horse and soon brought him to a slow 
walk, and so they proceeded up the street and arrived at Dr. 
Hammond’s gate with due dignity and decorum. 

Jack, however, had started the village tongues to wagging 
and had thereby very considerably increased his difficulties in 
his suit for Lucile. For many days the gossips of the town 
held up their hands in horror while they told of the reckless 
young man, who galloped bare-back, upon the minister’s 
horse, on a Sunday afternoon, and made him jump fences 
while he pursued a frightened cow. 

Jack dismounted, opened the gate, let the cow pass through 
and then followed by the horse approached the clergyman, 
who was still in the stable-yard and said : ‘‘This is a great 
horse. Isn’t he a beauty! If I were going to war I should 


78 DIFFERENT 

join the cavalry, and I should want this horse for a mount.” 

Dr. Hammond was pleased at Jack’s admiration for the 
animal, of which he was very proud. In fact, much to his 
chagrin he had several times found himself pleased with this 
young man, whom he had made up his mind to dislike. He 
could not help seeing that this was a youth, whom almost any 
normal girl might easily admire; but he decided that that 
was an additional reason for keeping Lucile from seeing much 
of him. 

Mrs. Hammond had a keen sense of humor, and chuckled 
when the village began to gossip about Jack’s wild Sunday 
evening ride ; and yet suspecting Lucile’s liking for Venator, 
because her husband had confided to her his prejudices and 
because she was opposed to her daughter’s thinking of mar- 
riage for many years, she worked up a sort of fictitious dis- 
approval of Jack that was almost vicious. 

Dr. Hammond lacked his wife’s keen sense of humor, but 
under his mask of churchly dignity he was after all very hu- 
man, and was by no means incapable of appreciating the 
funny side of things. He was sure that he ought to be 
shocked at Jack, and had himself pretty thoroughly con- 
vinced that he disapproved of him ; and yet he had a dread- 
ful suspicion that this young man of active body and mind 
had an almost irresistible fascination for him. So long as 
Jack was about, he could not for any long time keep away 
from where he was. He enjoyed his repartee, and found his 
bold and original statement stimulating. 

On Monday the boys returned to their homes, but Bessie 
remained for a few days to complete her visit with Lucile. 

That evening in the privacy of Lucile’s room they re- 
viewed the experiences of the house-party, and naturally 
spoke of the departed guests. 

Bessie said, “How is Jack progressing with his suit? I 


JACK VISITS HOME OF DR. HAMMOND 79 
think Jack’s a wonder.” 

“Do you know Bessie, he does seem to me wonderful. He 
is so vital. If he is just standing beside you and saying noth- 
ing, you feel like something stirring was going on.” 

“You mean you feel that way. After all Lucile I know 
what you mean. He is the kind of man of whom you would 
never get tired.” 

“That’s just it. He is the kind of man who can be com- 
pany just by being present. I can imagine him amusing peo- 
ple greatly; I can imagine him making people very angry, 
but I cannot imagine him boring anybody.” 

“Do not talk that way too much or you will make m.e 
envious of you and your brilliant lover. I am afraid Tom 
bores me a little at times, but he is such a dear that I like 
him to bore me.” 

“If it were not unlady-like, with Bob, I should exclaim, 

Vats!’ ” 

“Lucile, you are a darling, that exclamation removes all 
my melancholy.” 

“I thought it might help some. I notice, when Bob breaks 
in with ‘rats’ it always clears the atmosphere. I suppose 
though it would be more effective if women would say 
‘mice.’ ” 

“That reminds me Lucile that I must read up on my 
zoology this vacation.” 

“I must send for a pattern for my new gown. I got some 
lovely dress goods from New York this morning. I guess 
I shall not go into black because of my blasted hopes just 
yet.” 

“You would look sweet in black.” 

And so the girls discussed bugs, basques, and boys until 
late bed-time. 


CHAPTER IX 


Letters and Intrigue 

''It is a double pleasure to deceive. 

The deceiver/* 

— La Fontaine. 

A FEW days after the departure of the boys Mrs. 
Hammond received a letter from each, thanking her 
for the pleasure afforded them by their week-end visit. 
Jack’s letter she tore up and threw into the waste-basket. The 
message from Bob, she gave to Lucile and Bessie to read. 

Bessie said, “Didn’t Jack send a “bread and butter letter?” 
He is sometimes unconventional when present, but never neg- 
lects the conventionalities when absent.” 

Mrs. Hammond replied, “I do not think any one would 
ever be able to guess what that young man would do or 
would not do.” 

Lucile was wisely silent, and Bessie skillfully changed the 
subject. 

Her daughter at once took note of the fact that Mrs. 
Hammond had not given a direct answer to Bessie’s question ; 
and knowing her mother’s methods, her suspicion was aroused 
at once. 

When an hour later the elder woman retired for an after- 
noon nap, Lucile, taking Bessie with her, sought the basket in 
the library, but found nothing in it. 

She asked a maid if she had emptied the waste-basket; she 
answered, “Sure now, and that’s just what I did. I have 
emptied the auld basket twice the day a’ready; and the last 
time it didn’t have hardly nuthin in it.” 

8o 


LETTERS AND INTRIGUE 


8i 


“Where do you throw the waste paper Bridget?” 

“In a barrel in the cellar ; but what do yous want o’ waste 
paper, I reckon?” 

“Oh I expect to keep house myself some day, Bridget, and 
I want to know how it is done.” 

“If I was you Miss Lucile, it wud be a foin man that I 
wud keep house for, sure.” 

The girls laughed and noisily went up the back stairs. A 
few minutes after they might have been seen leaving quietly 
by the front door, and after circling the house entering the 
cellar from the rear. There in the barrel of scrap paper they 
found the fragments of Jack’s letter. After making sure of 
Jack’s signature Lucile threw the pieces back into the barrel. 

Bessie said, “Well what are you going to do about it?” 

“Oh, I just wanted to know.” 

“If I were you, Lucile, I should raise a big row with the 
mater.” 

“What for? Don’t you see that I have a much greater 
advantage, if I just know, and do not say anything?” 

“Yes, I guess that is so, but I should never have thought 
of it. I always want to talk.” 

“You’re a darling, and every body always want you to talk 
— but please don’t talk about this.” 

“You bet I won’t. No indeedy; no siree.” 

They escaped from the cellar without being observed and 
returned to their room. 

Lucile said, “A way-faring man can easily see the hand- 
writing on the wall — Mother has begun a campaign against 
Jack.” 

Bessie stared solemnly at an ivy-vine on the wall-paper 
and exclaimed, “Yes, I think I see the hand writing on the 
wall.” 

“Oh don’t get too serious. I think we find it easier to find 


82 


DIFFERENT 


hand writing on a wall than in a barrel.” 

“Your mother certainly hit on a size, for her scraps that 
made them sift through well.” 

“Oh, Bessie, I gave Jack permission to write to me.” 

“I see: the plot thickens.” 

“I shall have to plan to be mail carrier until that lettei 
arrives or I shall never see it.” 

“It would probably make interesting reading for the 
mater.” 

“Bessie, please don’t call her the mater. She is a darling, 
but she is just a little over resolute at times; and I might 
confide to you, that I am afraid there are not many things at 
which she would hesitate in accomplishing her object.” 

“The object being to queer Jack.” 

“Yes, the object being to queer Jack.” 

“Well you always have me^ 

“Yes, and it looks like I shall always need you. Bessie 
you are a brick.” 

“That is my great ambition.” 

“You sometimes remind me of bric-a-brac; but whenever 
an emergency arises you always turn out to be a brick.” 

“Is there anything you want me to do?” 

“This conversation sounds like it was preliminary to some- 
thing awful. It probably is preliminary to something un- 
known. I shall no doubt need you later, dear.” 

“It can not come too soon. I am sure I should just love 
intrigue, but I am afraid of your Puritan conscience.” 

“This kind of home opposition is hard on ethical practice. 
I am afraid I shall develop into an ‘artful dodger.’ ” 

The next day the girls went to the Post Office promptly, 
after the arrival of the morning mail. As Lucile unlocked 
the box, on top of a pile of mail, to her delight, she saw a let- 
ter from Jack. This she quickly extracted and waving it 


LETTERS AND INTRIGUE 


83 


before the eyes of her sympathetic room-mate, she thrust it 
into her muff. Closing the box with the rest of its contents, 
undisturbed, they hastened home, and hung the key on the 
back of her father’s desk, where it was kept for the conveni- 
ence of the family. Her father, very opportunely had been 
absent all morning. 

At length finding themselves alone in their own room witli 
the door properly closed, Lucile carefully perused her letter, 
and then read it aloud to Bessie: 

“Dear Lucile, Dearest Lucile, My Dear Lucile. 

I scarcely know how to address you, but am sure ultimately 
to settle down on the last form, with emphasis on the ‘my.’ 

I send greetings to your mother, who cannot see me for 
dust; to your father, who reluctantly tolerates me; and to 
the horse, who really likes me. 

Hereafter I shall always regard the horse as the most in- 
telligent of domestic animals. • 

However, least I be misunderstood, I wish to say that 1 
admire your father and mother very much. If your father 
would not suppress his natural instincts, he would be the most 
lovable of men. Your mother is a beautiful woman, sur- 
passed only by her daughter. She (the mother) has plenty 
of gray matter (I might add again surpassed only by her 
daughter). She has a fine intellect, and when she chooses can 
no doubt make herself very attractive; but she declines to 
exercise her reason when coming to a conclusion — She does 
not exercise her horse-sense. Now it requires horse-sense to 
appreciate me. That horse of yours makes no mistakes in 
people. You tie (for the present figuratively, and later liter- 
ally) to the man that is approved of by that horse. It is a 
liberal education to associate with him. I am glad he is in 
the family. I send high regards to Bessie, the astute young 
woman who reads me like a book, and who professes to un- 


84 DIFFERENT 

derstand all feminine absurdities and inconsistencies. 

Bob still trots out his rodents at frequent intervals, very 
much to the comfort of both of us. 

I suppose that you and Bessie have never been able to un- 
derstand why I was called by the foot-ball team to prac- 
tice, since the season ends Thanksgiving Day. Well I wasn’t 
although I could have been. We were not able to finish our 
schedule on time, and played one game after Thanksgiving. 
The telegram was a fake. I shall tell you about it some 
time, when I know you better. 

Bob and I had already accumulated our letters when we 
visited the Russell mansion. We got into a game for about 
five minutes the week before Thanksgiving. Bob had writ- 
ten home about his decoration, but fortunately, by the merest 
accident had omitted to say anything about the letter spread 
out upon my manly bosom. 

I am afraid all this sounds very like twaddel. As a mat- 
ter of fact I am resorting to all this inanity to keep from 
telling you that I love you. 

I hope that you will not make up your final opinion of me, 
until you have associated long and intimately with that horse. 
Long live the horse! 

Yours always. 

Jack Venator.^^ 

The girls laughed sympathetically and understandingly. 
Lucile said, “Well, how do you like that for a love-letter. It 
is certainly different.” 

“Yes, I think you are right. Jack’s great attraction is that 
he never does or says anything like anybody else.” 

“Prof Boggs would say that your sentence is elliptical, 
Bessie, but you have the idea all right. The peculiar thing 
about his peculiarities is that he isn’t peculiar.” 


LETTERS AND INTRIGUE 


85 


“That sounds funny but I guess you’re right. He seems 
just like other people, and yet does not act or talk like other 
people.” 

“Bessie, I’m afraid I like people that are different.” 

“I am very sure you like one person that is different.” 

Lucile perversly insisted on changing the subject and they 
soon found themselves discussing the new gown that had just 
arrived for Lucile. 

That night Mrs. Hammond told her husband that she had 
received a letter from Jack Venator thanking her for cour- 
tesies received during his visit to Whitestown. 

Dr. Hammond said, “Where is it I should like to see what 
kind of letter that young man writes.” 

“Oh, it was the regulation formal acknowledgment. I 
tore it up and threw it away, so Lucile wouldn’t see it.” 

“If it was regular and formal, why should Lucile not see 
it? It is hardly fair to leave the impression on her that he 
does not have good manners.” 

“That is just the impression I wish to leave with Lucile.” 

“Well, well, I should not manage it just that way; but I 
think I am just as anxious as you are to have this acquaint- 
anceship discontinued.” 

“No, you would not manage it at all. Lucile would man- 
age you.” 

“Well, well, yes, perhaps, but I never could quite approve 
of your methods.” 

“You never mind my methods, so long as I get the results 
that you want.” 

“When you try to manage young Venator, you are attempt- 
ing something a little different from anything that you have 
hitherto undertaken. I have great confidence in your ability 
to get results, my dear, but I am afraid that this time you will 
encounter a warrior worthy of your steel.” 


86 


DIFFERENT 


Mrs. Hammond arose, threw her head into the air, and 
looked scornfully at her more fair minded husband. 

“You have a poorly disguised liking for that young rep- 
robate. That is what is the matter with you. You just 
leave him to me. I’ll manage him.” And she swept from 
the room. 

Mrs. Hammond had great confidence in her ability to man- 
age things. Her methods were always indirect. If she 
wished her husband to buy her a new gown, she would in- 
troduce the matter by saying that she thought her present 
wardrobe would be sufficient for the coming season, that 
she did not think she would need any new clothes this winter. 
If she wished to go to the sea-shore she would begin to break 
the news to the family, with the prelude, that after all she 
was not sure that she cared very much about the salt water 
resorts, and that, as she did not like the mountains, she be- 
lieved that she would not go anywhere this summer. 

She was never known to answer a question by yes or no. 
Indeed she usually answered some other question than the 
one asked. She was very fond of trying to get information 
out of other people without their knowing that they were 
telling her anything that she wanted to know. 

She professed scorn for the straight-forward methods of her 
husband. Nevertheless, although she would never have ac- 
knowledged it, she was always influenced by Dr. Hammond’s 
opinions. 

Notwithstanding her grand air as she left the library, her 
confidence was a little shaken; and for the first time she 
realized that she had embarked upon an enterprise that might 
prove difficult. 

As she thought of Jack she could not suppress an oc- 
casional smile at the recollection of some sally that appealed 
to her sense of humor. Besides Jack was handsome and she 


LETTERS AND INTRIGUE 


87 


still retained her admiration for handsome men. She had 
however made up her mind, and she was of that pseudo- 
heroic mould, that prides itself on never changing an opinion. 
Although a little shaken, she yet could not see how it could 
be possible that Jack could continue Lucile’s acquaintance 
when she had made up her mind that he should discontinue it. 

A week after Jack had sent his unique love-letter to 
Lucile he received a reply. As he entered the room with the 
missive in his hand, it at once caught Bob’s eye. “I see, I 
see, a letter in a lady’s hand. It is easy to guess from whom.” 

“My dear Sherlock Holmes, you have guessed it right: it 
is a letter from Lucile.” 

“Sure Jack, it is a letter from Lucile. It could not be 
otherwise, but you do not seem as happy as you ought to be.” 

“No, I am not as happy as I ought to be, i. e., she ought 
not to write things to make me unhappy. The beauty of it is 
however, she always drops a crumb of comfort somewhere. 
I always come away from an encounter with her, with a 
mixed feeling of triumph and defeat.” 

“You had better try to subsist for a while on the crumbs of 
comfort.” 

“I suppose so, but crumbs ate not a very heavy diet for a 
robust young fellow like me.” 

“Well, are you going to read the letter to me, Jack?” 

“Yes, I suppose I might as well. I shall ultimately tell 
you all that is in it anyway. Listen while I sing the requiem 
of my hopes : 

‘Dear Jack. — Your letter to me and the horse came duly 
to hand. The horse is well, but seems to have forgotten you. 
I fear that I am not altogether like Jim (the horse) in that 
respect. I think it would be better for everybody concerned 
if I were. Oh, Jack, please quit writing about love! It 
is all so impossible. Mother would never consent to have 


88 


DIFFERENT 


you think of me in that way; father would never consent; 
and I ought never to consent. I certainly ought not to per- 
mit you to have any such sentiment towards me, when I do 
not love you — Oh, Jack, I do not know. I do not know. 

Bessie left the day after I received your letter. I read 
it to her, and she was just lovely about it. I hope you do not 
mind my reading your letters to her. She is as loyal to 
you as Bob is. I know you read my letters to Bob and I do 
not care, for I know Bob will never tell; and I know you 
would never read my foolish epistles to any one else. 

I told you of reading your letters to Bessie. I should have 
said letter. I should not have used the plural. You are not 
to write to me again. 

Father made a great speech on National Reform last 
Thursday evening. You should have heard it. Daddy is a 
dear and he has what Bessie calls ‘a sneaking liking’ for you. 
Every now and then, much to mother’s disgust, and I fear to 
his own, he finds himself quoting you. I suspect, at such 
times, my approval is just a little bit too manifest. Mother 
always skillfully changes the subject — well not always skill- 
fully, but she always changes the subject. 

Give my best regards to Bob. I think Bob is lovely. 

Yours finally, 


Lucile Hammond. 

P. S. — Could you not stop over night at Whitestown on 
your way home for your Easter vacation? 


L. H.’ ” 


“There is nothing to cry about in that letter. Jack.” 
“Since Bessie has gone and the horse has forgotten me, 
there does not seem to be anybody left in the family to defend 


“While Lucile is a member of the family, I suspect you do 
not need another champion.” 


LETTERS AND INTRIGUE 89 

“She says that she ought never to consent to have me love 
her.” 

“Oh, rats!” 

“Sure, yes, I guess that’s so. I suspect after all there is 
something in that. Anyway she invites me to visit Whites- 
town in the Easter vacation. You notice she is careful to 
extend the invitation to the town, not to her home; but it 
may be that she hopes to see me after I enter the corporation. 
Bless the rodents.” 

“You are coming back nicely to your normal condition 
Jack. I suppose you will accept Lucile’s invitation.” 

“You guessed right again. I’ll stop at Whitestown if I 
have to wreck the train.” 

“Do you think of calling on Lucile, when you visit the 
town.” 

“Oh, no, my visit is solely for the purpose of seeing the 
town. I think I shall take a stroll out to the lonely vacant 
spot where I found the cow, and take a look at that rail 
fence.” 

“I am glad to hear that the old gentleman seems to be 
coming around a bit. I thought he had it in for you good 
and proper.” 

“I believe he thinks so himself, but Lucile probably knows 
better.” 

“He certainly left that impression on the unsophisticated, 
at first.” 

“Bob, my prophetic soul tells me that this is just about the 
situation. I have evidently shocked him, and made a bad 
impression on him early in the game. He has communicated 
that impression to his wife. He has used his reason just a 
little in thinking it over afterwards, and his instinct for fair 
play has impelled him to hold his final opinion in abeyance; 
but the old girl has nursed her wrath and the temperature 


90 


DIFFERENT 


continues to rise as she pokes it up. That figure is a little 
mixed ; it sort of confuses pictures of caring for a baby, and 
running a furnace; but you get the idea!” 

“Oh, yes, you can always depend on my superior intel- 
ligence.” 

“Superior intelligence it is — perhaps. Why shouldn’t one 
mix his figures, if it does not confuse his thoughts?” 

“Is that a conundrum?” 

“No that is an appeal to your wide knowledge of the art 
of Rhetoric.” 

“Well I suppose the only reason why a fellow cannot mix 
his figures, is because he dare not.” 

“Yes, that is just it: you have got to do it the way it is 
done, whether that be the best way or not.” 

“Jack I should think that with your particular bent of 
mind, you would not approve of mixed figures.” 

“Oh, I do not, I was just petifogulizing. I do not even 
approve of mixed drinks.” 

“Nor of unmixed drinks.” 

“No of all the fools, the biggest fools, are the fools, who 
‘put an enemy into their mouths to steal away their brains.’ 
I certainly would not do it; although I am not quite sure 
that a man has not a right to be a fool if he wants to.” 

“I do not believe he has Jack.” 

“Well, maybe not. I suppose a man could justly be re- 
strained on the ground that society has a right to curtail a 
man’s liberty for the purpose of securing the greatest good 
to the greatest number.” 

“If you would just amplify that a little it would make a 
temperance lecture.” 

“If I were delivering a temperance lecture, I should also 
quote Paul: ‘If meat make my brother to offend I will eat 
no flesh while the world standeth lest I make my brother to 


LETTERS AND INTRIGUE 


91 


offend.’ To the Christian that is the solid basis of total 
abstinence. I should not waste time trying to prove that 
drinking wine is wrong per se/* 

The surprising rightness of these young men would have 
astonished some of their critics, who regarded them as hope- 
lessly reckless and thoughtless. 


CHAPTER X 


Jack Makes An Easter Vacation Call 

"So turns she every man the wrong side out; 

And never gives to truth and virtue that 
Which simpleness and merit purchases/^ 

— Much Ado About Nothing. 

T he day after Lucile’s return for Easter, Jack Vena- 
tor mounting the steps of the Hammond mansion 
rang the door-bell sharply, and waited results. Glanc- 
ing by chance through a small hole, that day made by acci- 
dent in one of the colored panes of glass that flanked the old- 
fashioned door, he recognized the figure of Mrs. Hammond 
as she swiftly and silently scurried up the front stairs. He 
waited long but not patiently. Finally Bridget opened the 
door, and when she recognized Jack she greeted him with a 
smiling face. When Jack had visited the Hammonds, be- 
fore, he had increased a good impression already made on the 
Irish girl, by giving her a half dollar with which he could ill 
afford to part. 

Jack, entrusting his Irish friend with two visiting cards 
and asking for Mrs. Hammond and Miss Hammond was 
shown into the library. Bridget took the cards to Mrs. 
Hammond, who looking at them said, “All right, Bridget, 
ril attend to this; and Bridget you go out to the carriage 
house and take a needle and a strong thread with you and 
mend the underside of that cushion that was torn yesterday.” 

This Mrs. Hammond felt quite sure would dispose of 
Bridget for half an hour. She then disrobed and went to 
bed. 


92 


JACK MAKES AN EASTER VACATION CALL 93 


She intended to feign sickness and send for Lucile, when 
Bridget returned, if Jack were still in the Library. She ex- 
pected, however, that before a half hour had elasped. Jack 
would become so impatient and angry that he, without any 
preliminaries, would seize his hat and leave. She hoped that 
he would not slam the door. The honest Irish girl, however, 
suspected some treachery and instead of mending the cushion 
in the carriage-house, as her mistress intended, she brought it 
in to a side porch adjacent to the library. 

By this time some ten minutes had already passed, and 
glancing through the window, she saw Jack still sitting 
where she had placed him, and already beginning to show in 
his countenance some of the emotions for which Mrs. Ham- 
mond hoped. He, however, looked like, if he should leave 
just then, he would certainly slam the door. Bridget slipped 
into the house by the rear entrance and going up the back 
stairs sought the boudoir of her young mistress, Lucile. 

When the door opened at her knock she said, “Sure now 
Miss Lucile, that foin young gentleman that they call Jack 
is a callin’, and he’s sittin’ in the master’s study — and there 
he’s been for a long time. I’m a thinkin’, I am, that your 
mother has forgotten all about the ilegant cards that I took 
up to herself.” 

Lucile could not conceal her excitement. Indeed she did 
not need to conceal it — Bridget very much approved of it. 

“Sure darlint I thought maybe it would be you he’d be a 
wantin’ to see.” 

“Thank you Bridget, I’ll go down.” 

Bridget retired muttering to herself, “Faith, and I guess 
the foin young gentleman will not be grievin’ much if the 
auld carlin’ never comes down.” 

When Lucile entered the library. Jack rose with a glad 
look in his handsome face, which was answered by one of 


94 


DIFFERENT 


Lucile’s inscrutable and fascinating smiles. 

“Oh, Jack, I am so glad to see you.” 

“I would travel from the Atlantic to the Pacific to see 
that smile — of course I mean, if I could raise the price; and 
if that were the only way to see the smile, I should somehow 
earn the money for a trans-continental ticket.” 

“I am afraid it is not distance but dictates that will cut 
you off from my smile. Jack.” 

“I thought the dictator had perished with the middle 
ages.” 

“Perhaps so, but not the dictatrix.” 

“From which I infer that it is your mother who will make 
most trouble for me.” 

“Daddy in regard to everything except a few denomina- 
tional tenets, is too fair minded to hold to an opinion unless 
he has some good reason for it — or thinks he has. He how- 
ever doesn’t favor you; mother does not favor you; and as 
for the daughter of the house — she does not favor you 
either.” 

“You have given me a lot of information in that deliver- 
ance: Your father is not unalterably opposed to me; your 
mother has it in for me good and plenty, and intends with 
reason or without reason to stick to her position ; the daugh- 
ter of the family does not know her own mind.” 

Lucile laughed. “There does not seem to be anything 
wrong with your understanding, Jack.” 

“I have lucid intervals.” 

“Well there is no reason why I should know my own 
mind for the present.” 

“No not for the present, but I keep wondering why you 
asked me to stop off on my way home, and why you are 
‘so glad to see’ me.” 

“I should be glad to see Bob,” 


JACK MAKES AN EASTER VACATION CALL 95 

“Oh yes, I suppose you would ; anybody in his right mind 
would be glad to see Bob.” 

“You are nothing if not loyal Jack; but doesn’t that clear 
the matter up?” 

“No not exactly. You were ‘so glad’ to see me, you were 
only glad to see Bob.” 

“Well I should say the same thing to Bob — with possibly 
not quite so much emphasis on either the ‘so’ or the ‘glad.’ 
Let us talk about the horse.” 

“Oh to be sure the horse. How is James?” 

“He is just splendid.” 

Before Lucile could answer the allusion to her letter Dr. 
Hammond entered the library, and Jack arose. Dr. Ham- 
mond’s natural courtesy and hospitality impelled him to offer 
his hand ; and as he looked into the frank open countenanced, 
clear eyed young man who stood before him he could not 
refrain from giving his hand a hearty shake. 

“Well young man how are you getting on at college?” 

“Oh, thus far, I have always been able to hypnotize the 
professors into giving me a passing grade.” 

“Then you are not standing at the head of your class.” 

“Oh no, not at all. You flatter me to inquire.” 

He did not tell his interlocutor how near the head of his 
class he now stood, nor how certainly he could have gained 
and held first place, had he begun hard work as soon as he 
entered college. Although sometimes mistaken for an egotist 
it was characteristic of Jack, when he had blundered through 
his own fault, to make no defense and to offer no explana- 
tion. 

Dr. Hammond continued, “I suppose you spend too much 
time in athletics.” 

Jack smiled, “I devote some time to college sports.” 

“Which means that you do not think that you devote too 


96 DIFFERENT 

much time to muscular development.” 

“Doctor, practicing athletics is a good deal like using 
intoxicants. No man thinks he drinks too much whiskey.” 

“I hope that you do not approve of the use of alcoholic 
beverages.” 

“I do not use them. I am a teetotaler, without the halo. 
I have no particular objection to other people drinking.” 

“I think a man is a fool who drinks.” 

“So do I, but, as I asked Bob the other day when we 
were discussing this subject, has not a man a right to be a 
fool?” 

“I do not think he has.” 

“Well maybe not. I was always a little indulgent in that 
respect knowing that I at times need some kind of tolera- 
tion. I think I should be willing to vote for national prohi- 
bition ; but I am not quite ready to ally myself with the long 
haired fraternity who advocate total abstinence.” 

Dr. Hammond smiled. Lucile hoped indulgently. 

“I do not have any excessive growth of hair.” 

“Oh, you do some other things besides advocating the 
prohibition of alcoholics. To have it act as a hirsute elixir, 
one has to shout temperance all the time.” 

Dr. Hammond changed the subject by remarking, “I am 
afraid Dr. Haines is not careful enough to find out the 
credal tenets of the members of his Faculty. However, I 
believe the professors are all fairly orthodox.” 

Jack replied, “That is just it. Dr. Hammond, they are 
all fairly orthodox — they are not unfairly orthodox.” 

“Now what do you mean by ‘unfairly orthodox?’ ” 

“One is unfairly orthodox who assumes that the deliver- 
ances of any set of churchmen, however learned and pious 
they may have been, have all the authority of Scripture, and 
thinks that any man who does not accept their verbatim 


JACK MAKES AN EASTER VACATION CALL 97 


statements is a bad man. However, I believe the only decent 
thing for a clergyman who finds himself out of harmony 
with the tenets of his denomination, is to step down and out ; 
but he does not thereby show himself to be a bad man, quite 
the contrary.” 

“Yes, that is what a clergyman ought to do — to sever his 
relations. I hope none of your professors have atheistic ten- 
dencies.” 

“No, none of them are atheists. Do you know. Dr. Ham- 
mond, it always has the most peculiar effect on me to hear a 
man proclaim himself an atheist — It always makes me feel 
like swearing.” 

“So I have observed.” 

“Shades of the ancient seers! When did you observe me? 
You must be able to be there when you are not present. If 
you observed me when I was feeling around for a stronger 
word than those allowable in parlor conversation, I certainly 
did not observe you. Doctor.” 

“No, you did not. My daughter and I were on the other 
side of the palm, in the Brown Palace Hotel, when you and 
your friend encountered a young fellow, whom you called 
Brown.” 

Jack’s mingled look of astonishment, perplexity, and 
amusement together with her recollection of the scene of 
which her father spoke, sent Lucile off into peal after peal 
of laughter. 

“Oh, Jack, I always intended to tell you about the Brown 
Palace incident; but never quite dared to do so.” 

“Sure, I remember trimming Brown down a bit when he 
began to air his cheap imitation of philosophy. That fel- 
low always does make me forget good manners; but don’t 
y6u think he deserved all he got. Doctor?” 

“Well — well, to be sure-^yes, he certainly deserved a rep- 


98 


DIFFERENT 


rimand ; but I was greatly shocked at your language young 
man.” 

“I shouldn’t dare to ask you what it w^as. If I remember 
correctly Brown was shocked too.” 

By this time both Dr. Hammond and Jack were consider- 
ably embarrassed. Dr. Hammond trying to relieve the ten- 
sion said, “I liked your statement of Hume’s argument, and 
your answer to it.” 

“I am awfully glad. Doctor, that I blundered on to some- 
thing that you liked on that unfortunate occasion.” 

Dr. Hammond rose, which of course, brought Jack in- 
stantly to his feet, and offering his hand asked Jack to excuse 
him for an hour as there were some pastoral calls that could 
not be deferred, and extended Jack an invitation to remain 
for dinner. Jack accepted the invitation with a cheerful 
promptitude that did not wholly commend itself to the older 
man. The clergyman, however, withdrew with a pleasant 
smile. 

Jack looked ruefully at Lucile. Lucile laughed. 

Jack said, “Lucile your father is a jewel. Under the 
circumstances, he behaved mighty decently. I am afraid I 
made a dreadfully poor showing.” 

“Oh don’t worry. Daddy was so much more pleased with 
the way you routed the Philistine than he was shocked by 
your strong language, that it leaves him in an attitude that is 
rather favorable.” 

“What did I say Lucile?” 

“You said that Brown was not an agnostic that he was 
just an ordinary blank fool.” 

“Upon reflection I am not disposed to modify that 
language.” 

“I do not think that even Daddy would want you to 
change a syllable of it; it seemed to fit his case so exactly.” 


JACK MAKES AN EASTER VACATION CALL 99 

Just here Bridget broke in on the conversation with the 
announcement that Mrs. Hammond was very sick and wish- 
ed to see Lucile at once. 

Jack said, “My, I am sorry. I think, since your mother 
has taken so suddenly and so seriously ill, that I had better 
leave at once.” 

“Oh, no. Jack, you do not know mother: she always gets 
suddenly and seriously sick, when any one comes here whom 
she does not like. You will not see her at dinner, but please 
stay.” 

“Oh, I see, your mother’s recuperative powers are good 
and she will make a sudden recovery on my departure.” 

“Again I say Jack, there is nothing wrong with your un- 
derstanding.” 

“Again I have a lucid interval.” 

“You are about to have a lonesome interval,” and Lucile 
wisked off to her mother’s room, where on one pretext 
and another she was detained until dinner was announced. 

Jack did not know just what to do. He thought something 
of quietly getting his hat and coat and climbing out of the 
library window and leaving by the back way ; but finally con- 
soled himself with the somewhat humorous mental observa- 
tion that in a democratic country the majority ought to pre- 
vail, and in this case it was the father and daughter against 
the mother. He decided to compromise the matter by stay- 
ing for dinner and declining to remain over night, if invited. 

He inferred from Lucile’s last remark that he would prob- 
ably be left undisturbed for a considerable time. Among the 
few volumes of fiction in Dr. Hammond’s library he found 
an old book, “The Wild Western Scenes,” now out of print, 
with which he entertained himself for nearly an hour; when 
Bridget announced dinner. 

Jack said, “Bless you Bridget, I am glad once more to 


lOO 


DIFFERENT 


see a living creature of my own kind. I was beginning to 
think that I was the only human being living in this big 
world.” 

“Auch, to be sure how you do go on Mister Jack. I hope 
you’re hungry dear, for it’s a good dinner I’ve made for 
you.” 

Lucile entered and Jack accompanied her to the dining- 
room. 

Dr. Hammond welcomed Jack in his characteristic genial 
hospitable manner. 

After asking a blessing upon their evening meal, the cler- 
gyman led the conversation into theological channels. Jack 
acquitted himself in a brilliant but very unsatisfactory man- 
ner. 

When the meal was ended, he retired to the library, feel- 
ing that he had shocked his host and fearing that he had 
excited even Lucile’s disapproval. 

For the next hpur he carefully steered the conversation 
away from dangerous ground. He gave numerous accounts 
of his adventures in the West, which seemed to interest and 
entertain Dr. Hammond very much. When the clergyman 
again brought the conversation around to infidels Jack told 
an old story, which he suspected might be new to Lucile 
and her father. He told how a loud mouthed self-impor- 
tant young skeptic said to an old farmer: “Why the idea 
of a God never even entered my head” and the farmer 
replied: “Just like my dog, but he does not go around 
howling about it all the time.” 

Dr. Hammond in fact had never heard the story, and 
the surprise of the farmer’s reply struck him as so very funny 
that he laughed long and loud. 

Jack rose and said, “I think I must go now, it is getting 
late.” 


JACK MAKES AN EASTER VACATION CALL loi 


Dr. Hammond said, “If you can remain over night with 
us you will be very welcome. Our house is large and you 
will cause no inconvenience.” 

“Thank you very much Dr. Hammond, but I have plan- 
ned to go on, this evening. Good-bye. My visit has been a 
great delight.” 

The old clergyman shook hands amiably, and Lucile ac- 
companied Jack to the door. 

Jack said, “I am somewhat encouraged about your father. 
You cannot hate a man very heartily with whom you have 
once heartily laughed.” 

“Daddy is a dear.” 

“Seems to me I have heard that before. If you keep re- 
peating it I shall come to believe it after a while.” 

“Oh, I wish you would. I shall keep repeating it.” 

“Good-bye, Lucile.” 

“Good-bye — and I think you might come again some- 
time.” 

Jack smiled happily, saying, “I am sure to do that very 
thing,” and turned reluctantly away. 

Whitestown is the suburb of a great city with which it has 
frequent train communications; but it was now half past 
eight o’clock and the evening trains had all gone. There 
was a train for the city at ten o’clock and another at eleven. 
Jack staid about the station until the first train was due, 
when he learned that the locomotive had just broken down a 
few hundred yards out of Whitestown, and that there would 
be no more ingoing trains until morning. 

He went to the only hotel, which like most suburban inns 
had accommodation for very few guests. He found every 
room taken. Jack returned to the Hammond mansion walk- 
ed back and forth past the house a few times, and finally de- 
cided not to appear again. 


102 


DIFFERENT 


He went out to the stable and finding the door unlocked 
mounted the ladder to the hay-mow, buried himself in the 
hay and comfortably went to sleep. About one o’clock he was 
awakened by a peculiar noise, and looking from a slat win- 
dow in the gable of the horse-barn, he saw a burglar slowly 
. and carefully operating with a jimmy on the door leading 
from a side porch into the hall. Jack slid silently down the 
ladder and quietly opening the stable door crept up stealth- 
ily on the burglar. He managed to approach within a few 
feet without attracting notice, as the burglar’s whole atten- 
tion was given to making the least possible noise with his 
jimmy. With a spring Jack was upon him. The man was 
smaller, and had neither Jack’s youth nor activity. He 
found his arms pinned to his side. He made a desperate but 
futile struggle. The noise of the encounter however aroused 
the house-hold. Mrs. Hammond threw up a window and 
blew a police whistle, which she always kept at hand for an 
emergency. Dr. Hammond hastened down the stairway. 
The town’s only policeman happened to be within hearing 
distance, and ran to the scene of action. He arrived just as 
an accomplice of the burglar, who had been on watch at the 
front of the house came to the rescue of his comrade, and 
felled Jack with a sand-bag. The man released from Jack’s 
bear-like hug, sprang past the policeman and escaped. The 
policeman succeeded in capturing the ruffian with the sand- 
bag. The man arrested, later paid the penalty of his crime 
in prison. 

When Dr. Hammond arrived he found the burglar’s ac- 
complice in custody of the policeman, and Jack lying un- 
conscious on the porch floor. Soon Bridget and Mrs. Ham- 
mond appeared. Mrs. Hammond recognized Jack instantly, 
and said, “I knew there was no good in that young man. Sec 
he is the accomplice of burglars.” 


JACK MAKES AN EASTER VACATION CALL 103 


Dr. Hammond looked at her sternly. “My dear don’t 
be a fool. Burglars don’t sand-bag their accomplices.” 

Bridget said, “Sure, I’m afraid the foin young gentleman 
is kilt intirely.” 

The clergyman with the help of the young Irish girl, who 
was as strong as a man, carried Jack into the house and laid 
him carefully on a bed in one of the guest-rooms. Just as 
they placed him on the bed, he opened his eyes, and rapidly 
recovered consciousness. 

Bridget hastened to Lucile, who had barricaded herself in 
her own room, and told her that Jack had been carried into 
the house unconscious. 

Hastily donning a becoming dressing-gown, she accom- 
panied Bridget back to the room where Jack lay. 

As she entered the room this irrepressible young man sat 
bolt-upright upon the bed. 

Lucile cried, “Oh, Jack, what has hoppened?” 

Jack responded with a wan smile, “I am afraid I don’t 
quite know. Was it an earth-quake Doctor?” 

“You seem to have been assaulted with a sand-bag.” 

“But how did I come to be near your house this time of 
night?” 

“I confess I was a little curious about that myself, but, un- 
der the circumstances, I did not like to inquire. There was 
a burglar.” 

“Yes, I begin to remember,” and Jack laughed. 

Lucile said, “If you don’t mind Jack I wish you would tell 
us about it.” 

“Oh no I do not mind, but I had hoped to enjoy the hos- 
pitality of your stable without your being any the wiser. 
There was a wreck; there are no trains into the city to- 
night. The hotel is full. I slept in your hay-mow. I dis- 
covered a burglar trying to break into your house. I attacked 


104 


DIFFERENT 


him and got knocked on the head — I think that about covers 
the ground.” 

Dr. Hammond said, “My, my, why did you not return to 
our house for shelter?” 

“Well, I felt that I had made a fairly good finish of a 
rather unfortunate visit, and I did not wish to do the finish- 
ing act again.” 

“You should have kept a look out for the accomplice of 
the man whom you attacked. It was his partner in crime 
who assaulted you.” 

“Oh, yes, I should, but I didn’t. ‘Fools rush in where 
angels fear to tread.’ ” 

Lucile said, “I shouldn’t call it foolish ; I think it was very 
brave.” 

“Not so very. I sized up his weight and probable strength 
before I tackled him.” 

Jack turned to Mrs. Hammond and smiled, “I am glad to 
note your rapid recovery.” 

“Young man, you cannot tell how bad I feel.” 

“No, but I can see how good you look.” 

“I think you are a little presumptuous.” 

“Beg pardon, I mean how handsome you look — Of 
course sickness may become you.” 

“I think, young man, you had better change the subject. 
You are not helping matters any. I think your quotation 
from Pope fits your case remarkably well.” Having given 
Jack this thrust, she turned to Lucile, and said, “Daughter, 
help me to my room and mix some more medicine for me.” 
She left the room feebly, although until Jack had suggested 
that her recovery had been sudden, she had been standing 
around in a most sturdy and self-reliant manner. 

Dr. Hammond called, “Good Night,” and smiled indul- 
gently. He turned to Jack and said, “You seem to have 


JACK MAKES AN EASTER VACATION CALL 105 


quite recovered from that ruffian’s blow. We shall be glad 
to have you occupy this room until morning. We shall all 
bid you good-night.” And before Jack could formulate a 
suitable reply every body had vanished. 

It was now half past two o’clock. Jack slept for three 
hours, and rising and dressing he slipped quietly out and took 
the six o’clock train for the city. Before taking a train for 
his home town he wrote a letter to Dr. Hammond apologiz- 
ing for preempting his hay-mow, and thanking him for his 
kindness and care after the encounter with the burglar. 

Mrs. Hammond got the letter and read and destroyed it, 
without telling her husband anything about its arrival. 


CHAPTER XI 


Lucile Confesses 

"‘But love can every fault forgive 
Or with a tender look reprove 
And now let naught in memory live 
But that we meet and that we love/' 

— Crabbe. 

1 

T he Easter holidays have passed and Jack and Bob 
are again back at college ; and in their room are talk- 
ing over their vacation. 

Bob brought compliments from his home people to Jack 
and told of a triumphant visit to his sweetheart. Jack lis- 
tened with interest and sympathy, and then said, “Well old 
man, I fear that I did not pull off things quite so well. I 
got in wrong with everybody. Dr. Hammond led me into 
a theological discussion on the resurrection of the body and 
I could not resist the temptation to spring on him that old 
chestnut about the man being drowned and partly eaten by a 
fish, the fish being caught and eaten, by another man; the 
other man dying while he had in his body tissue built up -of 
tissue from the fish which had been built up of tissue from 
the drowned man. I then asked him if the same matter and 
all of the same matter constituting the body when buried 
shall be returned to it when raised up, what would happen 
in this case. This puzzle had never been put up to him be- 
fore, and it made him sputter. He could only say, ‘Tut, tut, 
nonsense.’ Of course even on his theory of the resurrection, 
if he had had time to think the answer is easy enough. He 

io6 


LUCILE CONFESSES 


107 


could have answered me completely by saying : God is 
sovereign, and he cannot be conceived of as so bungling 
things as to permit the second man to die while there was in 
his body any material that had been in the body of the first 
man when he was drowned. But what an ass I was to spring 
this thing on him. He probably will not easily forgive me 
for puzzling him. Even Lucile looked shocked; and Mrs. 
Hammond held up her hands in holy horror, and said 
‘Young man you are irreverent, you are dreadfully irrever- 
ent.’ She seems to delight to call me ‘young man’ with 
emphasis on the young — not on the man. In fact Dr. Ham- 
mond labels me that way too on occasions. I hope it is an 
intimation that they expect me to improve with age. 

I think getting myself laid out by that burglar that I told 
you about, helped me a little with the old gentleman; but 
the old girl probably thinks that I had joined forces with 
the gang to steal the family silver.” 

“You do not speak of your future mother-in-law with due 
respect. Jack.” 

That epithet might not sound well to an unsympathetic 
hearer. I guess I could respect her all right ; but I am afraid 
it would put a tremendous strain on me to love her. A 
fellow does not have to love his mother-in-law, does he 
Bob?” 

“Oh, rats!” 

‘Exactly, that is what I thought.” 

“We have a little time this evening when we do not need 
to grind, let us write to our best girls. You no doubt wish 
to send your regards to the old lady.” 

“I am not expected to write to my sweetheart; but then I 
half suspect she expectes me to do the unexpected, so I shall 
write, watch me.” 

Silence fell upon the room broken only by the busy 


io8 


DIFFERENT 


scratching of two facile pens. 

Jack’s letter reached Lucile at Wellesley. Bessie watched 
her read it, and said, “Well, I wait.” 

“I told Jack not to write again, but I am so glad he did. 
Listen : 

‘Dear Lucile: 

I have written a bread-and-butter letter to your father. 
I suppose properly it should have gone to your mother; but 
I do not dare to address that formidable person since her 
exhibition of wrath when I congratulated her on her sudden 
recovery. I must admit that she did the relapse act ex- 
ceedingly well : her feeble totter as she left the room was a 
triumph of art. I intend some time to bring her down again 
with the same disease. Your father and Bridget certainly 
must have handled my unconscious form^with deftness and 
skill. It was mighty decent of Dr. Hammond to take me in 
and care for me as he did and ask no questions. He evidently 
would have made no inquiries about my part in the comedy, 
if I had not forced it upon him by questions of my own. I 
am convinced that your conclusions are justified: your ‘Dad- 
dy is a dear’ all right. However I have no doubt that your 
mother thinks that I was in collusion with the other ‘rough 
necks’ to despoil the Hammond mansion of its valuables. 

I am forgetting that this is a bread-and-butter letter. To 
revert to my original theme: your bread like your heart is 
light; your butter like your heart is good; the guest-room 
is everything that could be desired. 

I left on the early train so that your mother would not 
find it necessary to prolong her illness: she probably thought 
that I left on the first train out to avoid arrest. 

In your well behaved neighborhood, I feel sure that your 
solitary policeman heard that police whistle with aft actual 
feeling of relief. Tell him if he’ gets too lonesome to let me 


LUCILE CONFESSES 


109 


know and I will go out and stir up something for him again. 

I am sorry that I dropped into unconsciousness too early 
to deliver to him the enterprising jimmy artist that I cap- 
tured. I hope the burglar intended stealing your jewelry: I 
like to think that I have done something for you. If the 
police did not get him, I at least saw to it that he did not get 
the jewelry; although I did it in such a bungling way as not 
to merit much commendation. 

Bob is of course back. I could not keep house without 
Bob. He would no doubt send his regards to you, if I would 
let him. He is just now writing to his sweet-heart. It must 
be fine to be real sure that you have a sweet-heart. 

Your always. 


Jack.’ ” 

Bessie commented, “I wish Jack were as sure as I am that 
he has a sweet-heart.” 

Lucile answered, “I wish it were possible for him to have 
the sweet-heart that he seems to want.” 

“In the literary phrase of my brother, I say, ‘Oh rats!’ ” 

“That does somehow seem appropriate; but, oh, Bessie, I 
do wish that mother would be more reasonable. Dear old 
Daddy’s hostility to Jack melts like snow as soon as he en- 
counters the real Jack.” 

“Your dear mother will trick you out of Jack the first 
thing you know. She plays a deep game.” 

“Mother is a dear woman; but I do wish that she would 
play the game opt and out like Daddy.” 

“If you play the game successfully with her, Lucile, you 
have got to be a bit Machiavelian — you have just got to! She 
will leave no stone unturned to queer Jack.” 

“I shall emulate the great Italian as little as possible; but 
I suppose I must somehow defend myself ag^st unfair 
methods. The hopeless thing about it is that mother thinks 


no 


DIFFERENT 


that she is doing the right thing.” 

“Count me in on anything you want to try out. I think 
a little intrigue would be lovely.” 

“You’re a darling Bessie, but I do not have any plans.” 

“There goes the chapel-bell, Lucile.” 

The girls hastily donned their coats, Lucile saying, “Here 
go the chapel-belles.” 

The answer to Jack’s letter came with unexpected prompt- 
ness. It was brief but threw the boys into a state of great 
excitement : 

“Dear Jack — I received your unexpected letter. 

I write to tell you not to write again. It is all so hope- 
less : Mother is so unalterably opposed to you. 

Your perplexed. 


Lucile. 

P. S. — My great aunt died in Philadelphia. I shall at- 
tend the funeral. I expect to be in the waiting room in Mc- 
Nary’s Department-store at four thirty on the afternoon of 
April first. 


L. H.” 


I 


Bob said, “Well, Jack, will you have any business in Mc- 
Nary’s department-store on April first?” 

“I certainly shall. Considering the way I have managed 
this whole affair, that date, April first, suits me exactly.” 

“It does seem appropriate. May be Lucile will not be 
there at all. May be it is an April-fool joke.” 

“No, it isn’t that. She would be capable of a joke, but not 
of a fool joke. I shall go all right, but how?” 

“You could walk, of course.” 

“Yes, I could; and I would, if necessary. You know that 
dandy seal-skin cap that my aunt from Los Angeles sent me 
last Christmas. Well that is the solution. Brown offered 


LUCILE CONFESSES 


1 1 1 


me fifteen dollars for it. That will buy a return ticket and 
two dinners. I do not need it anyway. My father impover- 
ished himself by giving me one almost like it the Christmas 
before. My aunt is a brick, and if she knew all about why 
I sold it, she would approve.” Although it was certain that 
his aunt would never find out that he had sold the cap, it 
was characteristic of Jack that he would not have done so 
if he had not been convinced that she would approve of it. 

Bob said, “I should not think that you would wish Brown 
abroad in the town with your cap on his head.” 

“It requires a powerful motive to impel me to permit it; 
but you see I have the motive all right. Besides he may ab- 
sorb a little wisdom from the head-gear — not that I care 
how big a fool he is.” 

“I am convinced Jack. We shall sacrifice the cap.” 

“As ‘all coons look alike,’ so it is with all seal-skin caps — 
No one will ever know that it was my head decoration. 
Brown will lie about it: he will tell that he sent to Paris 
for it. And I shall appear in one just like it.” 

“Oh, I see — it still pinches a little.” 

“Yes, a little, but let it hurt. I was bound to be a little 
sore somewhere. If I should walk I would have sore feet. 
I guess I had better hurt my pride : it will not interfere with 
my royal gait.” 

“ ‘It must be so — Plato thou reasonest well.’ ” 

“Most appropriate! My ‘pleasing hope’ and ‘fond desire’ 
explains everything.” 

“How about the ‘secret dread and inward horror?’ ” 

“Well I have some ‘inward horror’ when I think of 
Brown wearing my cap; and a feeling of ‘secret dread’ 
comes over me when I think of my militant future mother- 
in-law. I shall endure the ‘inward horror’ and conceal the 
‘secret dread,’ ” 


112 


DIFFERENT 


Jack sold his cap to Brown, and on April first bought a 
round-trip ticket, and took the train for Philadelphia with 
enough money in his pocket for present emergencies. 

He reached the city in the afternoon at half past three 
o’clock, and immediately took a street car to McNary’s. He 
of course reached the waiting room long before the time 
mentioned by Lucile in her brief letter, with the long post- 
script; but he had determined to lose no time in case she 
should arrive early. 

About twenty minutes after his arrival. Jack caught sight 
of Lucile, as she was busily engaged at a glove counter. She 
had also seen him, but, as she did not regard it as in wholly 
good taste to be early, had decided to loiter, until the time 
mentioned in her letter. Jack immediately walked briskly 
up to the glove-counter, a great gladness in his handsome 
face, that he made no attempt to conceal. Lucile looked 
up with a smile and a blush and held out her hand. Jack 
grasped it and held it until Lucile said, “I did not give it to 
you to keep.” 

Jack dropped the hand, answering, “I release it but only 
temporarily. Let us find a cozy corner in the waiting room 
not too much exposed to the curious gaze of an unsympa- 
thetic public, where we can work out a programme.” 

Lucile did not dissent, and after finding suitable seats Jack 
said : “As it may require an hour or two to get your consent, 
I wish right now to announce that I am going to take you to 
dinner at Horner’s. You know all the best Philadelphia 
people go to Horner’s. It is perfectly proper.” 

“Oh yes, the restaurant is perfectly proper; but is it per- 
fectly proper for me to go to this perfectly proper restaurant 
without a chaperon. How did you happen to be in town 
Jack?” 

“Oh, I had so much money I did not know what to do 


LUCILE CONFESSES 


113 

with it, and, I decided to reduce my pocket book to normal 
dimensions by blowing in some money on a trip to Philadel- 
phia. It causes one great perplexity to have too much 
money. I am mighty glad I happened to find you in the city. 
Do you have many aged great-aunts?” 

Lucile laughed. “Wasn’t it awfully extravagant of you 
to make this trip?” 

“No outlay of money is extravgant when you get the 
worth of the money expended.” 

“I am afraid you were extravagant Jack, but I am so glad 
you were.” 

“Lucile I have just got to see you at more or less frequent 
intervals or at least to hear from you. How can I manage to 
write without making trouble for you?” 

“Jack, it is all too hopeless. It is utterly hopeless. You 
do not know mother. You must give up trying to see me, 
and do quit writing to me.” 

Jack looked so utterly miserable that she added, “I was 
thinking of renting a box at the post office on the North Side 
in my home city. I will send you a post-card with nothing 
but the number of the box on it.” 

Jack laughed appreciatively. “Lucile you are a jewel. 
Your bewildering inconsistencies are the sweetest things 
about you.” 

Father took me this afternoon and deposited me at the 
home of his friend the Reverend Doctor Giles, and told me 
to meet him at the Broad Street Station this evening in time 
for the seven-thirty train. I told him that I had some shop- 
ping to do. He seemed disposed to let me arrange that to 
suit myself. I made myself as entertaining to Mrs. Giles 
for a half hour, as I was able. I then excused myself to go 
shopping, telling her that I should not be back, but would 
either get a little lunch down town or eat after I met father 


DIFFERENT 


114 

at the station. I think I detected a supressed sigh of relief. 
I suspect that she had some important engagement for the 
afternoon, but did not dare to tell father.” 

“Then you can take dinner with me.” 

“It looks like I might. It is unconventional, but I am sure 
there is no harm in it. Besides it is the last time I shall ever 
see you.” 

“Oh, rats!” 

“I see you still quote Bob.” 

“Yes, if you can get that expression with exactly Bob’s 
intonation and emphasis, you can make it say almost anything 
you wish.” 

“Yes, I have noticed that, but it somehow seems to suit 
Bob better than you. Bob does not have your vocabulary.” 

“You are quite right: Bob can do it better than anybody 
else.” 

“Jack, I never told you that I was at my window, which 
overlooks the side yard, when you had your encounter with 
the burglar. The porch roof, however, cut off my view of 
the house-breaker and the man with whom he was strug- 
gling. I guess mother did think — or at least pretended to 
think that you were in league with the criminals. I heard 
her say something about some young man being an 
accomplice of burglars. And then, oh Jack, Daddy said the 
awfulest thing. I never heard him say anything like it to 
mother before. I ought not to tell you. I heard him plain- 
ly. He said, ‘My dear, don’t be a fool: burglars do not 
sand-bag their accomplices.’ ” 

“Bully for your daddy. He becomes more and more 
human the longer one knows him.” 

“Of course, he was greatly provoked. Daddy just cannot 
tolerate an unjust charge against any one.” 

“It was just a little inconsistent for your mother to suspect 


LUCILE CONFESSES 


115 

that the man whom the yegg-man had swatted on the head 
with a sand-bag was one of his very dear friends.” 

“I hope you do not think that a woman has to be con- 
sistent.” 

“I do not think they are.” 

“Now you are insinuating criticisms on present company.” 

“Lucile, I love you — you just be as inconsistent as you 
wish to.” 

“My what a funny place to inject that declaration?” 

“I stand by my declaration. I have been suppressing its 
expression for a long time, but it just would come out. It 
did not seem as if I ever should find a wholly appropriate 
place.” 

“It is no use Jack, it is no use. I can not disobey mother.” 

“I love you Lucile and sometime I intend to marry you.” 

“That is just it Jack, you never can marry me, and so you 
ought not to love me.” 

“You have your proposition inverted. This is how it 
should be stated: Jack does love me, therefore Jack ought 
to marry me.” 

Lucile blushed and her eyes filled with tears and she 
looked altogether so bewitching, that Jack could hardly 
restrain himself from taking her in his arms. He resumed: 
“Let us waive the question of marriage. That is in the 
future. I love you — that is in the present. Tell me Lucile, 
do you love me? In fairness to me even if you are going 
to turn me down you ought to tell me that.” 

Her little hand sought his muscular grasp, where it was 
nearly crushed; again she blushed, and smiling up through 
tears she said, “Yes, Jack, I do.” 

A wave of strong emotion swept over Jack’s face, and he 
said, “I thank God for that little girl. I thank God for 
that — nothing much else matters.” 


ii6 


DIFFERENT 


“I love you Jack, but, oh. Jack, I can never marry you.” 

“Do not let us discuss that too much — say that you will 
marry me if the way is ever opened.” 

“Yes, I will.” 

Now we are engaged. I should say that it is perfectly 
proper for engaged people to dine together. Let us go to 
Horner’s. They moved away together. There was a glow 
on Lucile’s face that Jack had never seen before. There was 
a tenderness in Jack’s manner of which Lucile had not 
guessed him capable. 

Any man that has ever looked into the face of a coy, mod- 
est, refined young woman of gentle birth, and breeding, when 
she first admits that she loves him has had a vision of Words- 
worth’s “light that never was on sea or land.” 

They had dinner at Horner’s and had a happy foolish time 
together. The two hours until the train was due, passed all 
too swiftly. 

Jack said he would deliver her safe into the hands of her 
father but Lucile declined, “You see it would just make 
other lovely times together less probable.” 

“I do not mind braving the wrath of my future father-in- 
law in the least, but if it will at all increase the difficulty of 
seeing you, I am convinced. I could not be induced to 
accompany you to the station — try me.” 

“I should not like to try too hard.” 

“If you only wouldn’t smile, I think I could resist; but 
when you smile I cease to reason.” 

Jack insisted on securing a cab, but Lucile thought that she 
would be less likely to be questioned if she used a street-car. 

As Jack helped her aboard, she turned and he saw her 
characteristic, bewildering, bewitching, irresistible smile at 
its best. In a voice keyed to reach her ears only, he said: 
“Gk)od-bye, dear, I have a vision to carry away with me.” 


LUCILE CONFESSES 


117 


“Good-bye Jack, look out for the post-card.” 

When they parted after mutual confessions, Jack knew, 
that, however his suit might fare no other woman, even if 
she should become his wife, could ever be quite the same to 
him as Lucile, and she had long been convinced that there 
was not any other person in the world like Jack, and con- 
sequently there was no one else who could take his place. 

The conclusions of these two young people were not the 
mere extravagant hyperboles of excited sentimentalists. In- 
deed the seemingly superlative statements of young persons 
at the mating age, at which we are disposed to smile, are in 
fact rarely as ridiculous as we are when we laugh at them. 

Almost every man sometime, somewhere, meets a woman 
whose personality responds to his in a way that is almost 
articulate. If he marry this woman there is open to him 
every possibility of happiness ; if he marry some other woman 
he may have much enjoyment in life, may respect his wife, 
and develop a very real affection for her and for her chil- 
dren; but there is a higher, finer, more intimate companion- 
ship which he can never know. 

This is why every other consideration should give way to 
that of love — that indefinable something, which few men can 
discuss without feigning to laugh at it, but in which every 
good man believes. 


CHAPTER XII 


Jack Meets the Faculty 

**Wit*s on unruly engine, wildly striking 
Sometimes a friend, sometimes the engineer'* 

Herbert. 

) 

J ACK and Bob are again back in college, and have re- 
sumed their regular routine of college work. 

A short time after their return an incident occurred 
that nearly resulted in the resumption of hostilities between 
Jack and his athletic atnagonist in the battle on the foot-ball 
field. 

One bright spring morning Jack appeared in a pair of new 
check trousers. As he stood on the college steps with a 
group of other students, Bob of course among the number, 
Buller approached wearing a new high priced derby hat. 
He stopped a step or two below Jack, and began to afflict 
him with the old and stupid joke, perpetrated by reiterating 
“that is good stuff,” all the time pinching the wearer of the 
“stuff.” Jack at first laughed good naturedly. Buller per- 
sisted and the laugh faded into a smile. Buller still persisted 
and the smile changed to Jack’s fighting grin which Buller 
recognized, but too late: Jack’s hand described a wide circle 
and descended with sure aim and tremendous force on Boi- 
ler’s new derby hat, crushing it beyond repair. The stu- 
dents, who had gathered on the steps, burst forth in a roar of 
laughter. Buller looked up in anger, and met the steady 
gaze of his old antagonist. 

Realizing the advantage of Jack’s position and the cer- 
Ii8 


JACK MEETS THE FACULTY 


119 

tainty that any hostile move on his own part, would precipi- 
tate a renewal of the battle in which, while he had come 
forth a conqueror, he had won his victory at a cost that he 
did not feel inclined to pay again, he changed his angry look 
to a look of amusement, and said as he attempted to straight- 
en out his hat, “That’s all right.” 

Jack immedately resumed his good natured smile as look- 
ing at the hat he replied, “Well, it doesn’t look it.” Just 
then President Haines appeared in their midst. 

As the president came up the path he observed and rightly 
interpreted every move of Buller and Venator. He looked 
at Buller’s battered hat with a smile and said, “Well, Buller, 
I guess you deserved it,” and passed on into the administra- 
tion building. 

Bob remarked, “Doctor Haines does not make many mis- 
takes.” 

Jack exclaimed, “Gee, I feel like I had just escaped the 
electric chair.” 

Buller still holding in his hand his ruined derby, turned 
to Jack and said, “Venator I ought to give you the alternative 
of paying for this hat or taking another threshing.” 

“If I did not feel justified in smashing your lid, I would 
pay for it Buller.” 

Bob interposed, “Which shows incidentally which alterna- 
tive Jack will choose if you press the matter.” 

Buller replied, “Doctor Haines has it in for me anyway. 
If I should get into another fight, he would fire me. If it 
were not for that, Venator, I would wipe the ground up 
with you.” 

Jack answered, “I do not believe that you have any serious 
intention of polishing up the earth. If you have, and you 
plan to use me in the operation, what is to hinder you to 
catch me off the campus, when you are sure that Dr. Haines 


120 


DIFFERENT 


is out of town — I’ll not tell i. e. of course I mean even if I 
survive I’ll not tell.” 

Buller scowled and said, “You’ll not survive.” 

The conversation fortunately was broken off at this point 
by the ringing of the last chapel bell. 

When after the recitations of the day Jack and Bob re- 
turned to their room Bob said, “That was a close shave this 
morning in two or three ways: you just missed being sum- 
moned to meet the Faculty; and you just missed getting 
into another fight with Buller.” 

Well I’m glad I tried him out. I shall not now waste to 
a shadow, worrying about the licking that Buller is going 
to give me — He will never try it again, or he would have 
avenged his battered lid on the spot — of course his line of 
talk about being expelled is all poppy-cock.” 

“You have seemed to eat and sleep well for some months 
now.” 

“Oh, yes, I guess I should have survived had I even been 
certain that I should have to enter the ring again with the 
big half-back ; but I am mighty glad that I shall not have to 
take another threshing at his hands.” 

“Oh rats!” 

“No, that does not exactly express the idea, but it sounds 
good to hear it all the same.” 

“It was a real pleasure for me to look at Buller’s hat, 
after you swatted it.” 

“I am glad you liked it. Bob. It seemed to afford a bit of 
satisfaction to Dr. Haines. Buller pushed the thing just a 
little too far. Of all the rustic, boorish, uninventive fools 
that have ever been let loose, I think the idiot who pinches 
your flesh, and at the same time talks about the ‘stuff’ in your 
garments, is the most unendurable. He got oflE easy with a 
smashed lid — I should have killed him.” 


JACK MEETS THE FACULTY 


I2I 


An hour after the above conversation the boys were in 
their German class, before an irritable young Prussian, who 
because of the great bulk of hair about his head and face, the 
boys called ‘Woolly.’ While a most proficient linguist and 
able to speak English fluently Professor Guttenberg could 
never quite fathom either the American boy or American hu- 
mor. He could never understand why his students seemed 
to be unable to learn that German is not Dutch. In spite of 
all protests they insisted on calling his beloved German, 
‘Dutch.’ Jack because he was given to a kind of humor, that 
to the honest German, was wholly incomprehensible, was his 
pet aversion. Suddenly reverting to elemental principles, he 
asked Jack: 

“Mr. Venator, what does the German ‘u’ with the umlaut 
over it sound like?” 

“Professor it sounds to me just like the noise a little pig 
makes after he has satisfied his hunger by drinking a bucket 
of buttermilk” — and Jack gave the sound correctly. 

“Venator if I was you I would not make an ass of my- 
self.” 

Jack replied, “No, not if you were I.” 

Even his classmates did not get the full intention of Jack’s 
remark for a full minute ; and then they went off into a roar 
of laughter. Professor Guttenberg never quite understood 
what Jack meant, but he was able to infer from the effect 
upon the class that he had been the butt of an American 
joke. He grew very red in the face and sputtered, “Mr. 
Venator you may leave the room; and you may meet der 
Faculty tomorrow.” 

The peculiarity of Prof. Guttenberg’s English was that he 
did not uniformly follow the common German modifications 
of the English tongue, but only occasionally fell into the 
characteristic blunders of his countrymen. 


122 


DIFFERENT 


Jack rising said, “My privileges multiply,” and hurrying 
to the door passed out. 

Jack’s final attempt at humor was entirely lost on his 
teacher. The professor turning to the class said : “That iss 
a most peculiar young man — he nefer gets mad. If he would 
get mad we might somehow manage him. Mr. Russell you 
may read and translate and be sure to pronounce ‘u’ with the 
umlaut correctly.” 

Bob happening upon easy lines read them with a great deal 
of manner and oratorical effect, and gave a good translation. 

The recitation was concluded without any more exciting 
incidents. 

When Jack and Bob met in their room. Bob said: “Say 
old man, you should have heard me recite. Woolly called 
on me immediately after your disgraceful exit. My manner 
was grand and my translation was great. Woolly beamed 
on me with approval.” 

“Good, it was the reaction after his disapproval of me. 
That’s the way it always works out. I am always battering 
around and helping everybody’s cause but my own.” 

“Jack your a bully fellow, all right.” 

“Oh, don’t be grateful, I had no intention of helping out 
anybody’s grade. There is just about as much merit in me, 
in this case, as in the cloak which Sir Walter Raleigh threw 
in the mud to show his devotion to the queen. I was not 
the Sir Walter of this incident, I was the cloak that helped 
you over the quagmires of a German recitation — I did not 
throw the cloak.” 

“Oh, rats!” 

“No, not rats, Germans.” 

“Before you get through that Faculty meeting, you’ll wish 
it were ‘rats.’ ” 

“I shouldn’t wonder. Dr. Haines is getting a little out of 


JACK MEETS THE FACULTY 123 

patience with me, I fear; but I shall try to bluff it through 
somehow.” 

“Oh you’ll get through, all right.” 

“You mean, I always have — ^which is quite different.” 

The next day when the Faculty convened Jack appeared 
promptly. Dr. Haines eyed him grimly, and opened the 
conversation with, “Venator, you are eternally and ever- 
lastingly into one devilment or another.” 

Jack contritely admitted that he feared that he was a little 
unfortunate in that respect. 

Dr. Haines said, “Prof. Guttenberg, what is your charge 
against Venator.” 

The professor answered: “I charge him with being dis- 
respectful to his professor of German.” 

Jack interposed in his most innocent >manner, “Dr. Haines 
would you please ask Prof. Guttenberg what I said that was 
disrespectful to him/' 

Venator saw that any way his accuser might answer this 
question when put in this particular form, would place him 
at a disadvantage. 

The German professor failed to attach any significance to 
the emphasis on him and plunged boldly into the particulars 
of his charge. He found some difficulty in relating the con- 
versation, wholly to his satisfaction. He said: “I requested 
Mister Venator to reproduce the correct sound indicated by 
the German ‘u’ with the umlaut over it. He said it sounded 
just like one little pig that had drunk much butter-milk.” 

Jack interposed, “What is there in that disrespectful to 
Professor Guttenberg? I don’t believe he ever heard a little 
pig express his satisfaction after a big drink of butter-milk.” 
— and Jack gave the sound making it so like the satisfied 
grunt of a well fed pig, and yet producing the German sound 
so exactly that it could scarcely be criticized. There was per- 


124 


DIFFERENT 


haps an unusual timbre but that would seem allowable. 

Professor Guttenberg started to explain, but Dr. Haines 
seeing at once that the German was no match in diplomacy 
for the young rascal before him said: “Never mind Pro- 
fessor. I will attend to this young man’s case,” and looking 
sternly at Jack he said, “You may apologize to Prof. Gutten- 
berg, right here and now.” 

Jack, who had not the least feeling of resentment towards 
his Professor of German, arose and said : “Professor Gutten- 
berg, I did not have the least intention of being disrespectful 
to you. What I said was a feeble attempt at humor. If I 
seemed disrespectful, and I see now that, what I said might 
strike a superior in that way, I apologize.” 

Prof. Guttenberg exclaimed, “Oh, this American humor — 
it has not the respect.” 

Dr. Haines turning to Jack said: “That is very good 
Venator. Consider yourself reprimanded, and get out of this 
as quickly as you can, before you say something to spoil your 
apology.” 

Jack saying softly to himself, “I ‘stand not on the order of 
(my) going, but go at once,’ ” hurriedly left the room. 

Dr. Haines caught enough of Jack’s murmured quotation 
to know what he was saying, but entirely ignored it. Turn- 
ing to Jack’s accuser he said kindly, “Professor Guttenberg, 
I think I should not bring any more cases before the Faculty 
unless they are really worth while.” 

Prof. Guttenberg, who was making a great effort to get 
the American point of view said, “It does not seem to be as 
much worth while, as it did before I brought it before the 
Faculty. I shall try to discriminate better.” 

“I am sure that you will. You need to learn to discrim- 
inate between yourself and your language. That young scape- 
grace, who just left, has nothing but the most kindly feelings 


JACK MEETS THE FACULTY 


125 


towards you: for he recognizes that you are a real man — 
and he is after all very much of a man himself. While he 
no doubt recognizes the greatness both of the German people 
and their language, he can not resist the temptation to poke 
fun at anything that offers.” 

“I see, he like me: he laughs at my language and oder 
things. I see. I shall like that young man, Mr. Venator, 
better after this.” 

“I believe after all it is good for all concerned, Professor, 
that you issued this summons; but be careful in the future.” 

“Yes, Doctor, I vill be careful. I will be careful. I 
thank you.” 

And again Doctor Maine’s reputation for wise treatment 
of men and boys was vindicated. 

Jack returned to his room, and bursting in on Bob ex- 
claimed, “I have come. I stood not upon the order of my 
going, but came at once.” 

“Which I suppose means that you are at large again.” 

“Not as large as when I went away. Dr. Haines prac- 
tically told me to get out quickly, so I should not have an op- 
portunity to make an ass of myself.” 

“I thought Brown is the only fellow in college who habit- 
ually makes an ass of himself.” 

“Brown does not make an ass of himself — ^he is an ass.” 

Jack gave a graphic description of the Faculty Meeting 
concluding: “You ought to have seen me fly when Dr. 
Haines slipped the leash!” 

Bob said, “You made a mighty lucky escape.” 

“I sure did. I didn’t mind apologizing to Woolly; he is 
a bully fellow after all, but hardly house broken.” 

The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the 
postman, who delivered a post-card addressed to Jack. It was 
without date, introduction, conclusion or signature. It bore 


126 


DIFFERENT 


a single short inscription : “77.” Jack handed it to Bob say- 
ing: “Would you like to take a day o£E and read it?” 

Bob looked at it curiously and remarked, “The plot thick- 
ens.” 

“Of course you know from whom the card comes.” 

“A lady’s hand — there is only one person from whom it 
could some.” 

“You are quite right, that is from whom it comes.” 

“With the two sevens it ought be lucky.” 

“It seems scriptural.” 

“Of course you know what it means.” 

“Yes, Lucile intimated that she thought of investing in a 
post-office box on the north side of her home city. That being 
the case, I knew her new home address, all but the number 
of the box. ‘77’ is the number I need for completeness.” 

“But why send you her home address now?” 

“I guess we shall have to explore the psychology of her 
sex for any workable theory. Those two figures tell me a lot 
of things: they tell me that she has not forgotten me; they 
tell me that she does not wish me to write to Wellesley ; they 
tell me that she feels better when using a little diplomacy 
against the unreasonable opposition of her mother, to do it — 
to use a popular and beautiful figure — ‘right under the nose’ 
of the mater families; they tell me that I may write to her 
the first time she goes home. 

“They sure are mystic figures. Jack.” 

“The hand-writing on the post-card does not tell me to do 
it ; but it is going to make me write to her to-night.” 

“Is it wise to have a letter inscribed in an unknown man’s 
chirography pass through the hands of the censor of the col- 
lege mail?” 

“I am not sure that they have a censor at Wellesley; but, 
of course, the safe way is to have you enclose my letter in a 


JACK MEETS THE FACULTY 


127 


larger envelope addressed to Bessie in your well known 
scrawl. Your writing may incite profanity, but in this case 
will not excite suspicion.” 

“You be careful that your conversation does not incite 
profanity.” 

“It sometimes does.” 

“I shouldn’t send your old letter; but I have a large 
stamped envelope in my desk and I want to get rid of it. It 
doesn’t fit any of my paper. Tear away with your gush, 
and see the facility with which Uncle Sam will pass it 
through the mail, with my magic inscription upon it.” 

“Bob, you are a jewel — a regular Kohinoor.” 

“I modestly admit my brilliancy.” 

“I concede the brilliancy; and for the next half hour 
please shine, and don’t talk.” 

Bob picked up a text book and said, “I’ll study, you’ll see 
me shine tomorrow in recitation.” 

Jack sitting down at his desk, said, “I take my pen in 
hand,” and began one of his characteristic letters to his 
sweetheart. 

“Dear Lucile: 

I received your postal-card today. 

It is brief and beautiful, short and satisfying, crisp and 
cryptic. I have just observed that it is brief: it is the brief 
for my suit. Although cryptic, I think I have interpreted it 
correctly. The fact that I am writing now would not indi- 
cate a very correct reading of your message ; but I write not 
because I am invited to, but because after receiving your 
message I cannot help it. 

I have not anything particular to say; but I must say it. 
When I saw the ‘77’ in your beautiful hand, I wanted to kiss 
the hand; and being unable to kiss it I feel constrained to 
write that I wished to kiss it. 


128 


DIFFERENT 


However, I must not grow sentimental. I can talk senti- 
ment better than I can write it. 

There is not much news to communicate. 

Bob is well — that is not new. 

I am well — that is not new. 

Perhaps my greatest achievement since I saw you is, as 
usual, of a negative character. I have met the Faculty only 
once, since my return. Today, I convened with this body 
of learned men, on the summons of the German professor 
of German. 

I got smart in class, and he very properly issued his invita- 
tion. I was reprimanded; and Dr. Haines hustled me out 
before I had time to say anything foolish. I omitted to say 
that, before my hurried and undignified exit, the president 
required me to make an apology to ‘Woolly’ — that is the 
nom de guerre of the hairy and irascible Teuton, who teach- 
es German. 

Bob kindly consented to ornament an envelope addressed 
to Bessie with his remarkable chirography. You have by this 
time discovered what this larger envelope contained — not 
very much of anything of either interest or importance. 

I find myself using words, idle words to fill up space, that 
I may avoid telling you again too abruptly, that I love you. 
That again is not new, but it is to me the most compelling, 
the most transforming fact in my experience except the more 
important and much more wonderful fact that you love me. 

Give my grateful regards to your ingenious and ingenuous 
room-mate — she is surpassed only by Bob, and the reader. 

Please write a good long answer to this letter. Your 
post-card could not have been improved upon; but I could 
not help noticing that it is just a little brief. 

I am, dear, with love infandum. 

Yours always. Jack.” 


JACK MEETS THE FACULTY 


129 


Lucile of course read this remarkable epistle to her best 
friend. Bessie said, “Well, now I like that — only surpassed 
by Bob. I never saw anything very remarkable about Bob.” 

“This is not a love letter to you, Bessie. Besides if you 
measure your compliment by Jack’s over estimate of Bob, 
and not by your under estimate, it is all that anybody de- 
serves. I think it was lovely of Jack to say that about you.” 

“Oh yes, I am duly grateful. If he said much more you 
would not like it.” 

“I am afraid I shouldn’t. I do not think it would take 
much to make me jealous of you, Bessie.” 

“That is a fine sight better compliment than Jack’s.” 

“I realize that you are dangerous, Bessie; but as I could 
not get along very well without you, I am willing to take 
some risk. That sounds a little like a threat to poison you, 
if I find that I can get along without you ; but that is not ex- 
actly what I mean — I am trying to say that if I did not value 
your friendship so much, I might be tempted to sever our 
relations just to keep you away from Jack.” 

“Oh don’t worry. Impossible as it may seem to you, I do 
not want Jack, so long as Tom is alive. If my affianced 
should be killed by some sudden accident, I might become 
your rival.” 

“A meteor might fall on him, Bessie.” 

“Yes, I think he is likely to last. Besides it would be 
useless to ciit me, to keep Jack and me apart, as long as Bob 
is Jack’s room-mate, and as long as Bob is my brother.’' 

“I guess the latter relationship is likely to last.” 

“Not much more likely than the former.” 

“I propose that we continue to room together, Bessie.” 

Both laughed and exchanged the look of understanding 
that can pass only between long tried friends. 


CHAPTER XIII 


Jack Declares Himself to Dr. Hammond 
much he dares; 

And to that dauntless temper of his mind 
He hath a wisdom that doth quite his valor 
To act in safety ” — Macbeth. 

T he weeks passed rapidly by and the Commencement 
season drew near. In May Dr. Hammond passing 
within a few hours’ ride of Van Buren stopped off, 
for a day to see his friend President Haines. The two men, 
notwithstanding widely different points of view, had been 
life long friends. Dr. Hammond said that his friend was al- 
ways too tolerant in theory, but always right in practice; 
while the college president declared that Dr. Hammond 
never thought right, but always did right. Both men had a 
sense of humor; but Dr. Hammond’s habit of being digni- 
fied somewhat hampered the exercise of a wit never quite 
equal to the quick discernment of the laughable which char- 
acterized the educator. 

As they traversed the campus together they passed Jack 
and Bob. Both young men raised their hats. Dr. Ham- 
mond’s expression as he bowed was between a frown and a 
smile. Lucile’s father always felt a little embarrassed when 
in Jack’s presence; for in opposing Jack he felt that he was 
acting a part in which he did not have much heart. 

To relieve his embarrassment he said, “Those two young 
men seem to be inseparable companions.” 

“Yes, they are great friends: either would shed blood in 
130 


JACK DECLARES HIMSELF 


131 


defense of the other. They make a strong team; they are 
complimentary. In fact they do not need to care much if all 
their friends should desert them: with their resources and 
different temperaments they are sufficient unto themselves.” 

“It is a pity Bob Russel is not a girl, if they are so exactly 
suited in temperament. This would provide Venator with a 
good wife.” 

“Hammond are you interested in getting Venator married 
well?” 

“Oh, no I scarcely know the young man. He seems how- 
ever to be physically sound ; and as you are interested in this 
new science of Eugenics, and Venator seems to be a sort of 
pet of yours, I thought maybe you had some plan for him. 
Now there is Bob’s sister Bessie, who is very much like her 
brother in temperament and in every way : she ought to meet 
your requirements. I should think it would be worth while 
for you to bring about a marriage between two young people 
eugenically so well fitted for one another.” 

A gleam of intelligence flashed across the president’s fine 
face, as he suddenly grasped the psychology of Dr. Ham- 
mond’s conversation. He answered, “No, I should be afraid 
to interfere with Venator in an affair of the heart. Under 
a considerable degree of polish he has just enough of the 
primitive man about him to make it dangerous to interfere 
with his affections. Hammond don’t you ever attempt to 
direct any love affair in which Jack Venator has a part.” 

“That is a most surprising remark for you to make to me. 
Why should I ever even know anything about this young 
man’s marital aspirations?” 

Dr. Haines ignored the interrogation and replied, “I be- 
lieve I have always been more or less given to making sur- 
prising remarks.” 

The president both divined Jack’s secret and inferred op- 


132 


DIFFERENT 


position from the drift of Dr. Hammond’s conversation. In 
order to disguise the fact that he had guessed one or two im- 
portant things that he had no right to know, he resumed: 
“Yes, I find Eugenics interesting; but man is too complex to 
make it practicable. If he were body only it would work all 
right, but when one undertakes to find suitable physical de- 
velopments and at the same time to match up intellects, tem- 
peraments, hereditary tendencies, moral developments and 
religious training the problem becomes so complex, that he 
would better just let nature take her course — by the way you 
have not seen the new book stacks just put into our library.” 

The two friends turned their course towards the library 
and their conversation drifted on to other things. After 
examining recent improvements in the storing and distribu- 
tion of books. Dr. Haines returned to the Administration 
Building, and Dr. Hammond started to return to his hotel. 
Before he had gone many blocks his attention was attracted 
by rapid foot-steps behind him, and looking back he saw 
Jack. Venator quickly overtook him and greeted him with 
the declaration that he had something that he wished to say 
to him. Dr. Flammond looked dignified and somewhat 
repellant. They had by this time turned into a side street 
little frequented by students, and found themselves com- 
paratively alone. Dr. Hammond said, “Mr. Venator I do 
not see any good reason why you should take me into your 
confidence.” 

“Well there is a good reason — a most excellent reason — I 
love your daughter.” 

“Tut, tut, nonsense. Why should you love my daughter? 
I do not wish to talk to you, Mr. Venator, about my daugh- 
ter.” 

“That is probably true; but I repeat it — I love your 
daughter. I think it is the manly thing for me to tell you 


JACK DECLARES HIMSELF 


133 


)> 

SO. 

“It is impossible. I intend my daughter to remain in our 
church. She must marry a man of her own denomination of 
Christians.” 

“Must is a strong word doctor — this is the nineteenth 
century.” 

“Do not presume to tell me what I can or cannot do with 
my daughter.” 

“I beg your pardon doctor, if, I seemed presumptuous. I 
do not need to tell you what you can not do with your daugh- 
ter: you will ultimately find out.” 

“Now, what do you mean by that?” 

“I love Lucile and I intend to marry her.” 

“You are presumptuous young man — you are very pre- 
sumptuous. I suppose you will permit my daughter to have 
something to say in the matter.” 

“She shall have everything to say in the matter.” 

“Well, you may as well abandon this wild notion of yours 
right now. Her mother will never consent ; and I shall never 
consent; and Lucile will never accept you without our con- 
sent. Lucile is a good girl.” 

“Yes, Lucile is a good girl: 

‘To thine own self be true; 

And it must follow, as the night the day. 

Thou canst not then be false to any man.’ 

Lucile will be true to herself.” 

Dr. Hammond by this time had become very angry, and 
he lost his dignity: “You think you are very smart, with 
your impudence, and your Shakespeare, and your loquacity; 
but I tell you, you cannot have my daughter.” ' 

Jack laughed at the good doctor’s somewhat mixed vitu- 


134 


DIFFERENT 


peration, and said, “I do not wish to do anything in a corner. 
I wish to make my position plain : I love Lucile, and I intend 
sometime to marry her.” 

Dr. Hammond raised his cane to strike Jack, but thinking 
better of it lowered it and turning his back on him walked 
rapidly away. Jack raised his hat and walked briskly off in 
the opposite direction. Neither man felt that he had ac- 
quitted himself very well. The young man however felt that, 
while he had possibly prejudiced his case, he had at least acted 
a manly part in declaring himself. Dr. Hammond was 
not at all satisfied with himself. He felt that throughout 
the conversation he had voiced his wife’s sentiments instead 
of his own, and that he had said what he knew his wife would 
have wished him to say rather than what he himself wished 
to say. His native sense of justice rebelled against this; he 
felt that he had not been quite fair. 

When Jack returned to his room Bob, who knew that he 
had set out to meet Dr. Hammond, greeted him with: “See 
the conquering hero comes.” 

Jack answered, “That quotation is all right, except that 
I am not a hero and I am not conquering aside from that 
it is very appropriate.” 

“Well did you tackle his highness? How did you pull 
it off?” 

“Yes, I seized the animal by the horns; and the animal 
tossed me over the fence; and here I sprawl.” 

“My, how undignified! He threw you over did he?” 

“Oh yes he fairly pawed up the earth, and made it plain 
that he has a fixed intention to throw me over every time he 
finds me on his territory. However, I think I made my 
intentions fairly well understood, too.” 

“What did you tell him you intend to do — elope with his 
daughter?” 


JACK DECLARES HIMSELF 


135 


“I did not make out any bill of particulars, as to how it is 
to be done ; but I told him that I intend to marry Lucile.” 

“And he didn’t receive the announcement with enthusi- 
asm.” 

“He seemed to be considerably moved by some kind of 
emotion; but I do not think it was enthusiasm.” 

“Of course, it could not have been anger.” 

“He was going to smite me with his cane, but for some 
reason suddenly changed his mind.” 

“What would you have done if he had?” 

“It scares me to think about it. He is a husky old gentle- 
man. We call him an old gentleman but he is scarcely past 
middle life. He is probably as strong as he has ever been. 
A fellow could not just stand up and let a man beat him up 
without any sort of resistance. I think I should have tried 
to capture the cane, and then cut and run.” 

“You need a cane anyhow.” 

“I am afraid I need a guardian.” 

“Get a bull pup.” 

“It is not my purse that needs guarding : it is my voluntary 
actions.” 

“What is the matter with me.” 

“You are the best I have found; but you always arrive 
after the game is over.” 

“It is safer.” 

“Oh well I know what I intend to do ultimately, and 
why worry? I still decline to cross bridges until I come to 
them.” 

“You will probably not be long in arriving at a culvert of 
some kind.” 

“As I gaze into the future, I see the country through which 
I must pass fairly bristling with bridges.” 

“I hope that you will not encounter many Horatius-s-s-s.” 


136 


DIFFERENT 


“A fellow can always swim — let the old man hold the 
bridge.*’ 

Jack comforted by the hope and egotism of youth soon 
regained his characteristic debonair attitude, and fixing his 
mind on the preparation of tomorrow’s recitations, for the 
moment forgot all about the irate clergyman and his brusque 
refusal. 


CHAPTER XIV 


Letters, Athletics, and Persiflage 

‘"Haste thee. Nymph and bring with thee 
Jest and youthful jollity. 

Quips and cranks and wanton wiles. 

Nods and becks, and wreathed smiles." 

— Milton. 

C ommencement week found jack and Bob 
very busy but happy in anticipation of the coming 
vacation. 

Jack had a subconscious uneasiness because of Lucile’s 
delay in answering his letter ; but his days were so full that he 
had little time for brooding. Besides he was too much of a 
philosopher to worry much over something not done. He 
said to Bob, I shall not go into an early decline because of 
something Lucile has failed to do, until I have found out 
why she has not done it.” 

Bob replied, “Right you are, old man. One cannot very 
well get mad at nothing.” 

“I shall save my wrath and grief until Lucile does some- 
thing that is positively hostile.” 

“If she should turn you down with a slam, what would 
you do. You could not fight her. You could not exercise 
your talent for vituperation upon her. What would you do?” 
“I think I should go out and lick Brown.” 

“Yes, that ought to help some.” 

“But we speculate. Let us be practical and practice.” 
The two young men set out for the Athletic field to prac- 
137 


138 


DIFFERENT 


tice for the coming contest between the Junior and Sopho- 
more classes. 

Bob was scheduled to throw the hammer. Jack as an- 
nounced in the college paper was “on for two events,” high 
jump and an odd and amusing kind of contest known as 
“scratch.” Two men at each end of a stick about a yard in 
length struggle for supremacy. The shorter and heavier man 
places his head between the legs of his associate, and digging 
his feet into the ground pushes lustily upon his companion. 
This is called “scratching.” The other man holds the stick. 
The man who grasps the wood is supposed to be the principal ; 
the other man is said to “scratch” for him. The principal 
leans over the “scratcher” and placing his hands under his 
body seizes the stick which passes between the heavier man’s 
legs from behind. This arrangement places the two prin- 
cipals facing each other, and the “scratchers” facing in 
opposite directions. 

The following Saturday the athletic contest took place. 
A great crowd gathered in the Athletic field. All the students 
were of course in attendance accompanied by many of their 
friends. People drove into the village from every direction. 
This was a great gala-day for the whole country-side. The 
young farmers with their gayest horses and finest buggies 
drove their sweethearts to town to view the contests of skill 
and strength between carefully chosen representatives of the 
Junior and Sophomore classes. The pop-corn man, the 
peanut man, the venders of ice cream and ginger ale, and the 
peddler of captive balloons added to the enjoyment of the 
occasion; while a blind beggar made merry with his ac- 
cordian, and an itinerant corn doctor gave a professional turn 
to the festivities. 

Jack did not expect to win the high jump as he was pitted 
against an acrobat who had forsaken the saw-dust ring for 


LETTERS, ATHLETICS, AND PERSIFLAGE 139 


the class-room. Venator had sufficient training, and was 
given the place without any expectation of winning, but 
because he was easily the best high jumper in the Junior 
class. He was vanquished and took his defeat good naturedly. 

The “scratch” he expected to win, he had the powerful 
grip necessary for the holder of the stick and could keep his 
feet well. Unfortunately his “scratcher” came on the field 
drunk, and unable to stand steady. Jack made a valiant 
effort to win a victory that he knew rightly belonged to him ; 
but his handicap was discouraging. He had to divide his 
strength and attention between holding the stick and keeping 
his associate on his feet. He tried to counteract the effect of 
the intoxicant by hammering his “scratcher” in the mouth 
with the end of the stick, but this effort resulted only in a 
volley of profanity from his victim. However, Jack took a 
grim satisfaction in punishing the man who was losing him 
the contest. After a long hard struggle he felt the stick slip 
slowly from his grasp. He was disappointed not so much 
because he was unable to pose as a victor as because he felt 
that he had not done what was expected of him by his class- 
mates. 

After the contest was over and the judges had withdrawn, 
and they were on their way back to the dormitory. Jack and 
Bob met Prof. Lynx of the Department of Physics. He said, 
“Venator did you know that you were defeated on a foul?” 

“No, but I know I was defeated on a fool. I allude to the 
man who was under me.” 

“Well you were fouled. I plainly saw your opposing 
scratcher reach up his hand and catch the stick, when under 
your strong pull it was slipping from the hands of his prin- 
cipal. I of course would have spoken of it, but supposed the 
trick had been discovered by the judges.” 

“It is too bad, but as none of our men saw it, it is too 


140 


DIFFERENT 


late now to make a disturbance about it. At least it is hardly 
worth while?” 

Bob also was defeated as he expected to be. His opponent 
was a man over six feet in height and weighing over two 
hundred pounds. Bob like Jack in the high jump, was the 
contestant not because he was expected to win, but because he 
could throw a hammer farther than any of his class-mates. 

The boys met the postman on their way back. He handed 
Jack a letter, which made him forget his disappointment. 

Bob said, “My prophetic soul tells me that that is the long 
delayed answer to your letter delivered under cover of an 
envelope directed in my ornate chirography.” 

“Your prophetic soul is working all right.” 

“Hurrah for Lucile!” 

“Oh, yes, of course; but maybe you had better wait until 
you see just how hard she has turned me down.” 

“Oh I don’t know, I always like to do the shouting first.” 

“I am almost afraid to open it.” 

“Pass it over and I’ll open it.” 

“You can congratulate yourself, if you ever hear what 
is in it.” 

“Well I should never insist on hearing it.” 

“Yes, old man I know that — that is just the reason you 
are going to hear it.” 

Jack did not open the letter until they returned to their 
rooms. Then after twice reading it over carefully to himself 
he read it aloud to Bob : 

“Dear Jack: 

I should not write to you at all, but I am going to do so, 
as you have perhaps observed. You should not have written 
to me at Wellesley; but as usual when you dd the wrong 
thing, I am glad you did it. 


LETTERS, ATHLETICS, AND PERSIFLAGE 141 

I delayed writing until now because I did not wish to 
receive any more letters from you until my return home. 
When I do what I know my parents do not wish me to do, 
as I told you once before, I somehow feel better if I do it, 
when they are right on the ground. Of course this to you 
with your penchant for logic will seem silly; but I should 
rather trust my intuition than your logic. You may write 
to me next week. I suppose I need not remind you of the 
number of the post-office box. I selected that number from 
three or four submitted because it seemed to me it ought to 
be lucky. 

Bessie is well and sends her highest regards. I am afraid 
she would send her love if I would let her. 

I send you a large amount of the latter commodity, but 
fear the more of it I send, the more unhappy we shall both be 
ultimately. Your good natured persistence and clear headed 
understanding of just what you wish to do inspires hope; 
but oh, I do not know — I am dreadfully afraid! If it were 
only some physical opposition that you could fight I should 
wager any amount that you would ultimately break it down. 
Even if you were temporarily worsted in the fight, as you 
were in your battle with Buller ; for as in that famous conflict 
you would probably so disfigure your enemy that he would 
withdraw his opposition. You cannot fight a woman, my 
own true knight. It is a woman’s implacable and unreason- 
able dislike that you have to encounter. 

Women are perhaps, on the whole, less stubborn than men ; 
but when a woman is implacable she is just about the im- 
placablest thing in existence. 

I am sure that I ought to dismiss you right now and 
finally; but I do not wish to break my own heart just to save 
you trouble, although I am sure that would be the high 
minded thing to do.’ Oh, dear, I wish everybody wouldn’t 


142 


DIFFERENT 


be so queer. It seems to me everybody is queer but you and 
me. Give my best regards to Bob. He must be a great 
comfort to you. He is like a cool breeze on a sultry August 
afternoon. 

Bood-bye, my dear knight, good-bye. 

Lucile.” 

Jack commented, “That is ^vhat I call an able letter.” 

“She has got brains all right.” 

“It is funny though that your ‘too too solid flesh’ should 
be likened to a summer breeze.” 

“It isn’t my flesh : it is my spirit — ^my breezy spirit.” 

“Breezy spirit sounds queer, but etymologically it seems 
all right.” 

“I suppose you haven’t forgotten the number of the box.” 

“Oh, no, ‘77.’ You see it impresses itself. It is scriptural 
and symmetrical and well balanced. It is easy to remember : 
just take the seventy translators of the Old Testament into 
Greek and add the seven wise men of the Greeks and there 
you are.” 

“Your system of remembering. Jack, would be to me a 
system for forgetting.” 

“It does sound a little like a recipe for pound cake: take 
seventy ounces of flour, add seven eggs, and sweeten to your 
taste.” 

“Too much flour Jack — too much flour.” 

“Oh well don’t let us bake a pound cake.” 

“No let us buy one — let us hike off to a restaurant and 
buy some ice-cream and, cake.” 

“All right my son, if it is a Dutch treat. I have a quar- 
ter here that I might blow in. I tire a little of our daily 
bread. Prunes are a good healthful diet, but a little prelim.- 
ihary ice-cream and cake may do no harm.” 


LETTERS, ATHLETICS, AND PERSIFLAGE 143 

“I also have twenty-five cents that I can bring myself to 
reluctantly part with. We will celebrate the occasion of the 
arrival of Lucile’s letter.” 

“You always say the right thing Bob.” 

“Mother and Bessie don’t think so.” 

“Oh, I don’t know. They do not say so; but you can 
never tell what a woman thinks by what she says.” 

“Not even by what she writes.” 

“No, not even by what she writes, but let us away and 
celebrate in honor of the writer.” 

“Right?” 

“Writer.” 

“Rats!” 

“I was wondering if it were not time to start in with the 
menagerie.” 

The two young men at times revelled in their nonsense; 
and well pleased with the present effort they romped off to a ' 
delicatessen shop to eat and chaff and be merry. To these 
two college cronies most other men seemed dull. Jack was 
never so deliciously nonsensical as when with Bob. Bob was 
never so humorous as when with Jack. They however never 
made talk. Sometimes Jack would come into the room, hand 
a Wheeling Stogie to Bob, and they would sit and smoke for 
half an hour and never say a word. At other times they 
were as talkative as market women. A friendship between 
two men is not intimate when either feels called upon to 
entertain the other. One enjoys the presence of a friend even 
when both are silent. 

After Jack and Bob had finished their ice-cream and 
cake — they went straightway to Commons for their evening 
meal. It was a warm evening in the early summer. A door 
in the middle of the long dining-hall gave exit to a sodded 
court. This door stood wide open. Jack- sat with his back to 


144 


DIFFERENT 


the lawn, Bob sat directly opposite. When the crowd of 
hungry Juniors had taken their seats the maids and the 
matron who had charge of Commons were all momentarily 
absent. It was the unconventional custom of the house to 
place the meat upon the table. While the young men carved 
and helped themselves to meat, the waitresses brought on the 
vegetables. Jack usually carved the meat that was placed 
opposite him. Bob tentatively placed his fork upon the roast 
and exclaimed, “Tough as Jack the Ripper.” 

Jack said, “It was tough yesterday. Let us not stand for 
this, Bob ril duck if you will heave it through the door.” 

It was no sooner said than done. With a mighty thrust 
Bob sent the joint of meat flying over Jack’s head out onto 
the grass-green turf. 

A yellow cur opportunely passing that way immediately 
seized the prize and made off with it. 

Just then the matron Mrs. McNeil entered the room and 
at once notcied that one of the meat plates was empty. She 
exclaimed, “My goodness what has become of that meat?” 

Jack answered, “I saw a yellow dog pass just now, I think 
he accumulated it.” 

“But how could he get it off the table?” 

Jack replied, “What was to hinder him — it wasn’t nailed 
down was it.” 

Bob examined the plate curiously and said, “No, I can’t 
find any nails or screws or fastenings of any kind.” 

Mrs. McNeil still looking puzzled and anxious said, “But 
how could the dog get the meat without you young gentle- 
men seeing him?” 

Jack answered, “Oh we saw him all right. We gave it 
to him. We have a spite against that dog.” 

“La, how you do go on Mr. Venator. But you don’t 
really mean that you threw my good meat to a dog?” 


LETTERS, ATHLETICS, AND PERSIFLAGE 145 


“We didn’t throw it to him, we threw it at him.” 

Bob said, “I’ll bet a dollar that dog will lose all his teeth 
inside of an hour.” 

Jack added, “Or maybe when he bites into that roast he 
can never get his teeth out of it ; and the poor dog will starve 
to death with a piece of meat in his mouth.” 

Mrs. McNeil now began to get angry and burst forth in 
her wrath: “What do youse impudent spalpeens mean any- 
ways carrying on this a-way with a decent woman?” 

Jack replied in his best manner, “Mrs. McNeil we were 
just trying to intimate in the gentlest manner possible that 
the meat is tough. Besides we haven’t done anything to you 
that is reprehensible — it is that poor dog that is going to 
suffer.” 

“Oh, you go on!” 

“It is too bad to impose on a poor dog ; and it is particular- 
ly unheroic to impose on a ^yallstr dog.’ ” 

“I’ll report you to Dr. Haines — that’s what I’ll do, ye 
spalpeens.” 

“Oh no you won’t. We couldn’t all throw the meat out ; 
and you will never find out who did it. Besides you would 
be just as likely to get fired for giving us tough meat, as we 
to get the grand bounce for throwing it out.” 

Mrs. McNeil began to weaken; besides she rather liked 
to hear Jack’s palaver, so she repeated, “La, how you do go 
on Mr. Venator!” 

Jack answered with a laugh, “Well you ‘go on’ and get 
us some tender meat for tomorrow or we’ll throw you out.” 

She said, “Well boys I’ll do the best I can. It’s that 
Dutch butcher that is to blame. He doesn’t know the differ- 
ence between a leg of mutton and a ten-pin.” 

Jack said, “Holy Moses, what a revelation! Boys do you 
awaken to the dreadful truth : that was a ten-pin. I thought 


146 


DIFFERENT 


it was a leg of mutton.” 

Bob broke in. “Poor dog, and he never did us any harm!” 

The whole table feigned tears, and Mrs. McNeil fled to 
the kitchen. 

Jack said, “I am a vegetarian — for this meal only.” 

Bob remarked, “The old girl behaved rather well, for one 
of her tender age.” 

Jack replied, “Yes, her age and her meat are alike tender.” 

Bob said, “Jack, tender me the butter.” 

Jack answered, “I’ll tend ter you, when I get you up to 
our room.” 

The table groaned. Jack laughed and said, “Quite right 
boys, kick us out — we deserve anything short of sudden 
death,” and they both rose and fled, followed by the whole 
noisy crowd. 

When Jack and Bob returned to their room, Jack answer- 
ed Lucile’s letter. 

The next day the scene changes to the room at Vassar 
occupied by Lucile and Bessie. 

Lucile had just finished reading Jack’s letter, and looking 
up quizzically she said to Bessie, “I suppose you do not wish 
to hear it?” 

Bessie answered, “Oh, no, I just listen to the reading of 
Jack’s letters because I know you are bound to read them to 
somebody, and I do not wish you to give yourself away.” 

“Bessie you’re a dear. I think I should just expire if I 
could not read this letter to someone.” 

“And I should die of curiosity if you didn’t read it.” 

“That does not sound consistent with what you said be- 
fore — but who wishes to be consistent.” 

Lucile reads Jack’s letter: — 

“Dearest Lucile. — Again I transgress, again I resort to 
the dreadful expedient of Bob’s chirography to disguise my 


LETTERS, ATHLETICS, AND PERSIFLAGE 147 

villainy. I hasten to get one more letter landed safe within 
the sacred halls of Vassar, before you make its classic groves 
desolate by leaving them. I do not have much of interest to 
write about. Our life here is a good deal like that outlined 
in Mark Twain’s diary, where day after day his record is 
‘got up, washed, and went to bed.’ If you enlarge this by 
much eating and a considerable amount of digging you will 
have a sufficiently good description of our days here. For 
some time now, I have not had to swear at Brown, or fight 
with Duller, or waste my eloquence on a hardened unsympa- 
thetic and indifferent faculty, in trying to explain. 

Examinations are over. We are now all in the sieve and 
the professors are beginning to shake us around. No man 
knows who will fall through. Bob and I hope that we have 
developed a sufficient number of rough corners not to go 
through the mesh; but no man can predict. 

We have just had a tempest in a tea-cup, in Commons: 
The meat is tough. The dog is hungry. The dog is also 
yellow. Bob attempts to spear the meat with his fork. The 
meat resists. Bob persists and finally penetrates the solid 
flesh. I with my usual wisdom suggest that Bob throw the 
leg of mutton through the door. Bob responds promptly. 
The roast of meat cuts the atmosphere like a thunder-bolt. It 
lands on the lawn and is seized by the hungry cur. Exit the 
dog and the meat. Enter irate matron who indulges in much 
vituperation. Indignant dining-room lady after prolonged 
argumentation becomes reasonable. Bob and Jack make cer- 
tain poor jokes and make a hurried exit with the whole Ju- 
nior Class after them in full cry. 

Thus at intervals we are able to get up an artificial excite- 
ment that varies the monotony of the regular grind. 

My next letter shall be addressed in my own hand to Post 
Office Box Number 77. Seventy-seven shall hereafter al- 


148 


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ways be a red-letter number to me. 

If I ever am able to establish a home of my own and in- 
stall a telephone, I shall insist on having, as my number, 
‘77.’ If those new horseless carriages, called automobiles, 
ever so increase in number and decrease in price as to enable 
me to buy one, and they require a license number, I shall 
select ‘77.’ When I set up in life with an establishment of 
my own I shall rent a pew in the nearest Presbyterian 
Church; and strangers inquiring for my pew, as they enter 
will notice on the end of my seat the number ‘77.’ 

I have a very vivid and exact picture of the young woman 
who will occupy this pew, number ‘77.’ She has brown 
eyes and brown hair and a smooth dark skin lighted up by 
beautiful red cheeks. She has a brown costume, a brown hat 
and brown shoes and looks very chic and smart. 

Oh it is sure to come to pass. 

Cheer up: be an optimist. 

'Amor omnia vincit/ 

Yours entirely. 

Jack.” 

Bessie waved a table-cover and cried, “Jack Venator for- 
ever!” 

Lucile replied, “He is sort of cheerful.” 

“You may just depend on it Lucile, his vision of the pew 
will come true.” 

“It does seem like it might, when he portrays it; but, oh 
Bessie, I do not see how it can.” 

“Oh, rats!” 

“You seem to be getting the habit Bessie.” 

“There is no other expression that so exactly fits your 
mental attitude.” 

“It does seem almost adequate.” 

“Take Jack’s advice: be an optimist. Don’t be a hum- 


LETTERS, ATHLETICS, AND PERSIFLAGE 149 


bug.” 

“I am afraid Bessie I am just a little of a humbug. I 
somehow feel in my bones that it is bound to come out all 
right in the end, in spite of mother’s vicious opposition ; but 
I somehow feel more dutiful if I do not permit myself to be 
too hopeful.” 

“Yes, I understand.” 

“You dear, you always understand.” 

“No, I have never yet been able to understand the square 
of the hypothesis of a right-angled triangle.” 

“Well you’re square on any hypothesis.” 

“That is almost worthy of Jack, dear.” 

“I do believe I am getting to look at things from his queer 
angle.” 

“All of which shows that you are sure to occupy that pew.” 

“Oh, I hope it does.” 

“Well it does, all right.” 

“Bessie, you are such a comfort.” 

“I am afraid I shall need comfort myself, after tomorrow’s 
examination in Bible.” 

“Oh that’s easy — the Bible, not the comfort.” 

“Yes, easy for you.” 

“I have had some advantages. I have had the Bible ham- 
mered into me ever since my early infancy. I know more 
about the Bible than Moses knew about the Pentateuch.” 

“Another Venatorism!” 

“So it is — isn’t that nice — but let us go to work.” 

Immediately the two loveliest young women in Wellesley 
were immersed in the study of the history of God’s chosen 
people. 


CHAPTER XV 


Jack and the Wellesley Girls Hear Camilla Urso 

"'A daw's not reckoned a religious bird. 

Because it keeps a cawing from a steeple." 

— Hood. 

C ommencement week passed, much as usual. 
The leading men in the class delivered orations, to 
hear which crowds of their friends came from near 
and far. The ushers for the Commencement Day exercises, 
were chosen by the president from the Junior Class. Asked 
on one occasion on what grounds he made this selection. Dr. 
Haines answered, “Mainly good looks and gumption.” It 
was considered a high honor to be selected to serve in this 
capacity. The only reason for this seemed to be that it had 
always been so considered. It is one of the traditions of the 
college. It may be, however, that there was an instinctive 
feeling among the students that they were chosen for some 
such reasons as those announced by Dr. Haines. Young men 
are not averse to being thought good looking and tactful. 
This year Jack and Bob were Dr. Haines’ first selections. 

It was considered a further great honor to have escorted 
up the aisles the largest number of persons. Jack’s tall erect 
figure attracted immediate attention and his persuasive smile 
captured every one who entered when he was near the door. 
He seated the greatest number of visitors, and his jovial 
room-mate took second honors in this odd contest. Jack and 
Bob had decided on their way to the Commencement Hall 
that they did not care who placed the greatest number of 
Commencement auditors, so they together captured first and 

150 


JACK HEARS CAMILLA URSO 


151 


second place. They were well satisfied with the outcome. 

Bob greeted Jack as they met on leaving the hall, with, 
“Congratulations old man, you sure did it up brown.” 

“Only a shade browner than your out-put, hon ami, and 
I had the advantage of greater lineal dimensions. An altitude 
two inches above the crowd makes one easy to see. I notice 
that you held every person whom you were able to catch with 
your magnetic eye.” 

“Oh, yes, I pulled off the Ancient Mariner act all right. 
Don’t you wish they would have judges and make an actual 
count?” 

“No, I don’t believe I do. It would not be any better for 
us. I am afraid Bob that both you and I have a way of 
escorting two people up the aisle that makes them look like 
lour.” 

“I never thought of that, but plead guilty.” 

“Of course, it is our Belle aire*’ 

“Yes, I guess it must be something French. Wouldn’t 

Bessie howl though, if she heard you talk about my belle 

• 

atre, 

“She thinks because you are fat that you can not be fine. 
In this particular I beg to say that Bessie is a goose.” 

“Oh, by all means say it. I wish you would say it to 
Bessie.” 

“I shouldn’t dare — unless greatly provoked.” 

“If you continue your loyalty to me, you’ll be greatly pro- 
voked all right.” 

“Watch how quickly I respond when the crisis comes.” 
“I watch.” 

The boys spent the remainder of the day, entertaining, vis- 
iting friends. The next morning they again reviewed their 
Commencement Day experiences. Jack broke in with: “I 
think Bob, we have about exhausted the subject of our 


152 


DIFFERENT 


triumphs in the guest-shoving, seat-finding contest. Let us 
discuss our plans for the summer.” 

“Well, to begin: What is the last offer from the wild and 
wooly people who want you to teach a summer school in that 
Colorado mining town? I noticed a letter for you with a 
Colorado post-mark on it this morning.” 

“They offer $25.00 a week for eight weeks and my rail- 
road fare both ways. The school opens June twenty-third. 
This is the sixteenth. I must leave this morning. You say 
Lucile is coming home with Bessie for a week, and that they 
will reach Washington this evening on their way, where they 
will stay over night — you see the drift? I can reach Wash- 
ington by seven forty-five this evening. I leave the National 
Capitol at twelve o’clock tonight. I shall see Lucile. Where 
do they stop?” 

“At the Riggs House.” 

“I shall send them a telegram on my way to the station. 
I have just one hour and ten minutes to get to the station.” 

“All right, old man, go ahead and get into your evening 
suit — You can cover it up with a long rain coat. Fll pack 
your trunk, and wait over until tomorrow.” 

“Bob, you are a jewel. The only thing that enables me to 
permit it is that I know and you know that under the same 
circumstances, I would do the same thing for you.” 

“Oh, rats!” 

“Oh, yes, by all means, but you are a jewel, all right. ‘Of 
purest ray serene.’ ” 

“But not ‘born to blush unseen.’ ” 

“Oh, no — not born to blush at all. By the way Bob I’m 
afraid that you will have to write an elegy on me before I 
get back to ‘God’s country.’ ” 

“Are you afraid?” 

“Yes, I am just a little bit scared. I am afraid of those 


JACK HEARS CAMILLA URSO 


153 


western rough-necks. It seems the only way to fight them is 
to kill them. Now I do not wish to kill anybody; and I 
have an even stronger prejudice against being killed myself. 
However, I guess my only safety is in setting up a good 
bluff.” 

“Suppose the bluff doesn’t work; what will you do then?” 

“I don’t know — run I guess.” 

“No man can tell what you will do Jack; but the one 
thing I know you will not do is run.” 

“No, I suppose not. I always forget to start. If I could 
just get started I would be a good runner; but somehow I am 
always thinking of something else, until it is too late to start.” 

“You had better get a big revolver. Jack.” 

“No, I shall not carry a weapon of any kind. I should be 
sure to kill somebody, if I did. Besides, perhaps they will 
not be quite so hard on a defenseless youth. — Say, is this 
bloomin’ tie on straight?” 

“Yes, but it probably will not be by the time you get to 
the National Capitol.” 

“That is probably a good guess, but I like to start right.” 

“There Jack all your worldly goods are in that trunk, in 
just forty-five minutes.” 

“Good work. If I were going to get married tonight I 
should not say, with all my worldly goods I thee endow,’ I 
should say, with my old battered trunk, I thee endow.” 

“Yes, I know you would be sure to say some fool thing.” 

“And, under the same circumstances, you would be sure 
to do some fool thing.” 

“ ‘To rush in’ for instance.” 

“Yes, ‘to rush in’ while the angels and I staid back.” 

“You would sure be lonesome among the angels.” 

“Yes, I should ‘fear to tread’ on somebody’s train.” 

“By the way, that reminds me that it is nearly your train 


154 


DIFFERENT 


time.” 

Jack consulting his watch replied, “So it is. Here comes 
the baggage fiend. You are of course coming to the station 
with me. Come along and see that the conductor is sober 
and the wheels are turning round and everything is all right 
before I get aboard.” 

“I infer that you are not going to get aboard until after the 
train starts.” 

“I seldom do. I want to keep myself in practice in case 
I should wish to go somewhere and not have the price. One 
rides on a freight train more successfully, if he gets aboard 
after the wheels have begun to turn around.” 

Jack sent a telegram to Lucile, and the boys approached 
the station on a brisk run, just as the train came to a stop. By 
the time Jack had secured a ticket the train was in motion. 
As he swung aboard Bob yelled, “Good-bye old man.” 

Jack replied, “The Lord be with you Bob, good-bye.” 

Dr. Haines who had just alighted from the train smiled 
indulgently when he heard Jack’s farewell salute, and speak- 
ing to himself without audible words said, “That benediction 
spoken in this flippant way is probably much more sincere 
than many a blessing pronounced by a man in priestly robes.” 

Fifteen minutes after Jack’s train left Van Buren, his 
telegram was delivered to Lucile. She looked at the yellow 
envelope in some alarm, and said, “I do hope it is not any 
bad news from home.” Then tearing it open, she smiled 
happily and resumed, “No, it is good news from somewhere 
else.” 

Bessie responded, “Oh, yes, I see. Jack is coming — when 
and where?” 

Lucile answered, “Here and now — ^he will be here this 
evening.” 

“Well let us have the text.” 


JACK HEARS CAMILLA URSO 


155 


Lucile read: “Coming. Riggs this evening. Take you 
and Bessie theatre, an5rwhere. Jack.” 

Bessie mused, “Short and comprehensive.” 

“Yes, wasn’t it nice to let us choose the theatre?” 

“How do you make that out, Hammond?” 

“Note that word ‘anywhere.’ He left ‘to’ out to add 
‘anywhere.’ Why ‘anywhere,’ if he did not intend us to have 
the theatre selected by the time he arrived?” 

“Right you are! My kingdom for a paper!” 

Lucile laughed. “I have one in my suitcase — here it is. 
Pick out the theatre. I shall be happy with Jack anywhere.” 

Bessie seized the newspaper, saying, “Right again. If 
it were Tom that is to escort us tonight, I should let you 
choose the place. Indeed I should hardly notice where we 
went. How about Camilla Urso, the great lady violinist?” 

“I should like that. Father and mother would not object 
to my hearing a woman play a violin. We have barely time 
to hustle our trunks up from the station and get into evening 
dresses. We did not expect to need our trunks ; but isn’t it 
lovely that we do ?” 

“Perfectly gorgeous!” 

“Yes, I think so too. I do not see why girls should not be 
permitted to use that kind of adjectives if they wish to. Now 
for instance, your adjective ‘gorgeous’ is perfectly appropriate 
— contemplating ourselves in evening gowns has much the 
same uplifting effect as the contemplation of a sun-set.” 

“It will probably move Jack more than a sun-set.” 

“I intend to look as pretty as I can.” 

“Which means as beautiful as any one ever looked.” 

“I hope Jack will think just that; and yet when I think 
of the hopelessness of our affair, I should not wish that at 
all. I am going to try to look my worst some time, just to 
try to disenchant Jack; but for tonight let us look our best.” 


156 


DIFFERENT 


“That is exactly what we shall do.” 

“It would be sort of unpatriotic to not try to look our 
best, when we are in the National Capital.” 

“We should be traitors!” 

Lucile with her finger on the call-bell said, “This is no 
time to talk. ‘Act, act in the living present.’ ” 

A bell boy appeared and was given minute and somewhat 
prolix directions in regard to bringing the trunks. In due 
time they were delivered. When Jack arrived at the hotel 
and entered the “Ladies parlor,” he looked at the two young 
women who tripped forward to meet him in frank admira- 
tion, and on greeting them exclaimed: “You are the two 
most lovely things in all nature.” 

Lucile laughed happily and answered, “There may be just 
a little art here and there to enhance the general effect.” 

“Those gowns are what the savage inhabitants of the 
British Isles would call ‘ripping.’ ” 

Lucile looked at the back of Bessie’s gown in mock anxiety 
and exclaimed, “Oh, I hope not!” 

Then turning to Bessie she said, “I do not wish to monop- 
olize Jack — at least I am not going to monopolize Jack.” 

Jack said, “Sure enough here is Bessie saying nothing for 
the first time in her history.” 

Bessie replied, “Oh, I realize that I am not one of the star 
actors in this drama. This is one of the few occasions on 
which ‘silence is golden.’ ” 

Lucile exclaimed, “Again I say, Bessie you are a dear.” 

Jack said, “I am almost tempted to say that myself some- 
times.” 

Lucile countered, “Don’t you dare!” 

“Oh, no, of course, I shouldn’t dare to say it, but I cannot 
help thinking it sometimes.” 

“Oh, that is all right. No person can know Bessie and not 


JACK HEARS CAMILLA URSO 


157 


think that, but I do not approve of your openly calling other 
people’s fiances ‘dear.’ ” 

Bessie said, “I always did like bouquets.” 

Jack interposed, “That reminds me that I did not have 
time to order any flowers for you people. I suppose I need 
not betray the fact that I am even shorter of money than 
of time.” 

Lucile laughed and replied, “The idea — to intimate that 
we could be improved by flowers. Don’t you think these 
gowns are really very pretty?” 

Jack looked his admiration and gratitude and responded, 
“It is mighty good of you to turn it off in that way. What 
group of Washington’s bon ton am I going to surprise to- 
night with my two peerless Wellesley beauties.” 

Lucile answered, “Those who assemble to hear Camilla 
Urso.” 

Jack commenced, “Good! Camilla Urso is certainly a 
fair, fine, and fancy fiddler.” 

“Don’t call a woman a fiddler — she is a violinist.” 

“I put it that way for the alliteration.” 

“You seem fond of alliteration.” 

“I am. For instance, the elusive, lively and altogether 
lovely Lucile is a good expression.” 

“Oh, talk about somebody else — anybody else — anything 
else.” 

“One talks best about that in which one is most interested. 
Suppose you change the subject. I do not seem able to do 
it successfully.” 

“I am so glad you dressed up for this evening, although I 
do not just see how you managed it. You look so nice in an 
evening suit.” 

“Oh, yes, I see. You change the subject from you to me. 
I should much prefer to talk about you. As to the suit ‘nice’ 


158 


DIFFERENT 


is perhaps the word. I shall look better in this cut of suit 
as I grow stouter.” 

Bessie interposed, “Just hear that Lucile. Jack is going to 
keep right on getting handsomer all the time.” 

Jack said, “Oh, rats!” 

Bessie remarked, “Yes, Bob’s expression somehow always 
does relieve embarrassment.” 

“Well, I was getting in pretty deep, and needed to resort 
to heroic measures of some sort.” 

In order to give Jack and Lucile a few minutes alone Bes- 
sie had purposely left her gloves in her room, and now ex- 
cused herself to get them. 

Lucile looked up modestly and mischievously at Jack and 
said, “I noticed that Bessie did not have any gloves when we 
came down in the elevator, but as I guessed why I did not 
say anything.” 

Jack laughed, “Oh, my prophetic soul! I see, I see. ‘For 
ways that are dark and tricks that are vain’ commend me to 
the modern young woman — Bessie is a dear.” 

“Yes, you may say it this time. Jack, aren’t you extrava- 
gant, buying three tickets for the concert? I know that you 
and Bob have to economize to get through college. Those 
tickets will cost you two dollars and a half a piece. I did not 
dare to say this before Bessie — but really Jack, you ought not 
to do it. Let us just play bridge here in this room.” 

“You’re a dear to think and say that; but I can stand it all 
right. I shall make two hundred dollars in the next two 
months. I am going out to a mining town in Colorado to 
teach some of the wild and wooly of the coming generation. 
They may shoot me ; but if I live through it I shall get two 
hundred dollars.” 

“Oh, Jack don’t go.” 

“Don’t take to heart what I said about the shooting. I 


JACK HEARS CAMILLA URSO 


159 


sometimes like to indulge in heroics. It is awfully good of 
you not to want me shot.” 

“Now, you are trying to deceive me by making light of 
your danger. Oh Jack please do be careful.” 

“Sure, ril be careful. I don’t want to get shot. It would 
be worth while however to have a few holes shot in me if 
they would obligingly place them at points that are not vital. 
It would be worth while so you 

‘would pity me for the scars I bore 

and I love you in that you did pity them.’ ” 

“Jack you are certainly hard to manage. You are usually 
non-sensical, or literary or both. Oh, Jack, I am afraid.” 

“I am a little afraid myself; but I do not wish to talk 
about being afraid — it is not heroic. I like to be heroic. Let 
us change the subject. I should even rather have you pity 
my impecuniosity, than pity me for scars I have not yet 
received. But I hasten to reassure you that I can manage the 
tickets all right. However, I could not quite compass the 
flowers.” 

“I think it was remarkably sensible of you not to attempt 
the flowers. Indeed I think you are the best balanced person 
that I know; but one has to know you very well to find it 
out. Jack, why do you always try to leave the impression 
that you are never serious about anything? Now, mother 
thinks that you are the most reckless, irresponsible scape- 
grace in existence, and father is very doubtful of you.” 

“I suppose it is partly constitutional; but it is mainly be- 
cause of my intolerance of the man who by every air and 
manner assumes wisdom — the so-called great man, who can 
never forget that he is great; the so-called good man who 
continually and shamelessly assumes the I-am-holier-than-thou 
attitude. Dr. Haines is my idea of a really great man. He 
never makes aiiy claim to dignity or assumes piety or re- 


i6o 


DIFFERENT 


sorts to any assumption of greatness. He is just great because 
he can’t help being great. I think he is the best and the 
greatest man that I know.” 

“Yes, but why say things to shock people?” 

“Partly because it gratifies my peculiar sense of humor, 
and partly because people need to be shocked.” 

“I do hope your peculiar sense of humor, will not prove 
your undoing in the West.” 

“Well, shall I set about trying to eliminate what I some- 
what egotistically denominated my peculiar sense of humor?” 

Lucile glanced up at him with one of her characteristically 
engaging looks, slightly blushing, a little shy, partly mis- 
chievous, and wholly distracting; and in a scarcely audible 
tone said: “Please don’t. I am afraid I like you much 
better as you are. I am even afraid I like you because you 
are as you are.” 

“The Lord be praised: it is to me an emancipation proc- 
lamation.” 

“Now, you are your own dear, good, ridiculous self.” 

“I am even content to be ridiculous, if it pleases you.” 

“Here comes Bessie!” 

“Bless her for her procrastination!” 

“I seem to have been an unconscionable time getting my 
gloves ; but I stopped to sew on some buttons.” 

Jack whispered, “I’ll bet four dollars she cut them off 
and then sewed them on.” 

Lucile said audibly, “Not a doubt of it.” 

Bessie inquired, “Not a doubt of what?” 

Lucile answered, “Not a doubt that we still have plenty 
of time.” 

“Of course that was not at all what 5^u were talking 
about ; but it is true enough. Wc have plenty of time. It 
is just arorund the edmer. I am going to walk. How am 


JACK HEARS CAMILLA URSO 


i6i 


you people going to get there.” 

“You and Lucile are certainly taking care of my finances 
in a most effective and delightful vi^ay. I have a dreadful 
suspicion that you will find it several squares after you turn 
the corner; but nothing would suit me better than to walk. 
I am willing to be fooled into thinking it is for our health.” 

They all laughed happily and tripped off merrily down the 
avenue — three as well mannered, refined, intelligent, and, 
with the exception of expensive jewelry, as well dressed as 
any of the scions of the families of the great, who that night 
assembled to hear the celebrated violinist; and they were 
handsomer than any of them. 

When Camilla Urso appeared Bessie said in a low tone, 
“Now we must quit talking.” 

Jack answered, as he took a position where he could see 
the two girls. “Sure, who wishes to talk? I don’t. With 
this duet of charms to gladden my eye, and the violin to 
soothe my ear, I am content to ‘stop, look, and listen.’ ” 

Bessie whispered, “I wish Bob were here; there is a cer- 
tain favorite expression of his that is very much needed just 
now.” 

Lucile remained happily silent. 

When they returned to the hotel, Bessie conveniently re- 
membered that she had a letter to write to Tom, and after 
bidding Jack good-bye, retired to a distant corner of the large 
room, now almost deserted, where there was a writing desk. 

Jack’s train left in a few minutes. He said, “I suppose 
Lucile the first letter I direct to number seventy-seven will 
be from some point considerably west of this.” 

“I hate to see you go West. I shall be anxious to hear 
from you. But, oh Jack, after all, I am afraid you ought not 
to write at all. If we keep this up, don’t you see how awful 
it is going to be when the crash oomas.” 


DIFFERENT 


162 

“The crash will not come sweetheart. If it ever does, you 
and I together will stand aside and let it crash.” 

“But that is just it, dear, don’t you see that I can not stand 
aside?” 

“I am afraid we arc becoming too figurative. But if ever 
I am driven to it, I shall pick you up and carry you aside.” 
He clasped her hand. She looking up in his face, with a tear 
in her eye smiled bravely, and said, “Good-bye, Jack.” Jack 
drew her gently within the shadow of a large palm near 
which they stood, and stooping kissed her forehead, murmur- 
ing, “ ‘Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles,’ that is 
the combination for me” — and he was gone. 

Bessie bustled up with her letter stamped, sealed, and all 
ready to be mailed. She ignored Lucile’s evident excitement, 
and passing out into the foyer, they dropped the missive in a 
mail box, and took an elevator to their room. 


CHAPTER XVI 


Jack Goes to Cripple Creek 

**8trange the world about me lies 
Never yet familiar grown — 

Still disturbs me with surprise. 

Haunts me like a face half known.'* 

— ^Wm. Watson. 

J ACK’S trip to Denver was uneventful. Arrived at the 
Union Station in that city, he approached the ticket office 
and addressed a pert young man inside: “How long is a 
round trip ticket for Cripple Creek good ?” 

The young man snapped out, “Ninety days.” 

Jack’s jaw squared, “How much does one save on the price 
of two single tickets, by purchasing a round trip?” 

“Fifty cents.” 

“Give me a single ticket.” 

“Well, now what do you want — a round trip or a single?” 
Jack smiled, “I didn’t make it quite clear?” 

“Tell me what you want. I can’t wait for you all day.” 
Jack smiled again. He was just beginning to enjoy him- 
self, and said, “You have as much time as I have.” 

“Well, what do you want?” 

Jack assumed a thoughtful air. “Well, now let me see 
how can I make it clear to you? Do you think you would 
understand if I should say that I wished to purchase a single 
trip ticket to Cripple Creek.” 

“Sure, why didn’t you say so.” 

“That is just what I did say.” 

163 


164 


DIFFERENT 


Jack for two or three minutes had been holding up a line 
of broad hatted Westerners, but they were so pleased with 
the way he was trimming down the youth behind the window, 
that they never murmured. As the young man turned away 
to get the ticket, the men behind Jack burst forth in a most 
boisterous and aggravating horse laugh. 

Jack also laughed and said, “I did not know I had a gal- 
lery — thanks awfully. I beg your pardon for holding you 
up; but you see that young fellow lacks experience. I was 
just giving him a little experience.” 

One of the men said, “Young feller, you’re all right,” 
and they all laughed again. 

After the crowd clamoring for tickets had been served, 
and had cleared away, the young assistant who had sold the 
ticket to Jack, turned to his superior, who had listened to the 
whole colloquy, and said, “I can’t make out whether that 
young fellow, who wanted a ticket to Cripple Creek, is a 
damned fool or a sharper.” 

“As the young fellow himself said, you lack experience. 
After you have asked a fellow, who looks like that, a fool 
question, don’t then try to string him. You depend on it, 
he is no damned fool. He made himself perfectly clear at 
first.” 

The young man laughed good naturedly. “The next time 
that guy wants a ticket, I will listen to what he says, and 
hand him out the ticket he asks for, without saying anything 
myself.” He had learned his lesson. 

When Jack got aboard the train for Cripple Creek, 
whither he was going, to take up his work as a teacher, he 
saw two of the bearded strangers, who had waited patiently 
while he bought his ticket. They were residents of the 
mining town. They took a seat immediately behind him ; and 
soon in their friendly Western way opened a conversation. 


JACK GOES TO CRIPPLE CREEK 


165 

One of these men was both tall and heavy: — a powerful 
man, six feet in height and weighing two hundred pounds. 
He was apparently about forty-five years of age, with dark 
hair, and mustach, a bold grey eye, and ruddy complexion — 
altogether a frank, honest, handsome face. 

The other man was of about the same height, but thin and 
weather-beaten. He had close cropped sandy hair and beard 
and a clear blue eye with a somewhat humorous squint. 

The larger man said, not inquiring, but declaratively, 
“Young feller ye’re from the East.” 

Jack returned his smile and answered, “Yes, I admit it — 
from the effete East.” 

The big man was a little puzzled by Jack’s adjective de- 
scribing the East, but noting Jack’s friendly smile let it pass 
unchallenged, and inquired further, “Are ye a goin’ to Crip- 
ple Creek?” 

“That is my plan.” 

“Are you expectin’ to stay long?” 

“I intend to try to stay two months. I am going to teach 
a school there.” 

The dark complexioned man sprang up and seizing Jack’s 
hand said, “Bully for you, young feller. I’m the man that is 
gitten up that summer school. I am Bill Lennox. Never 
mind the Lennox. Call me Bill. This is Sandy McNab, 
who has been around Cripple Creek ever since he come here 
from Scotland twenty years ago.” Sandy interposed, “Na, 
Na, mon, it’s no more than nineteen.” 

Jack laughed and said, “I see Mr. McNab — ” 

The lean man again interposed, “Na, na, call me Sandy — 
I’m no better than Bill. He is Sheriff of the County.” 

“All right. You men may call me Jack.” 

Bill said, “No it is better for the childer to call you Mr. 
Venator.” 


DIFFERENT 


1 66 

“Well may be so; but isn’t it better for the children to 
hear me calling you Mr. Lennox and Mr. McNab.” 

Sandy said, “There may be a wee bit in that, Mr. Venator. 
The wee young things of America are none too respectfu’ to 
their daddies.” 

Bill interposed, - “Sandy ye’re right and Mr. Venator is 
right.” 

“Ye should na call me Sandy.” 

Bill laughed, “Well, Mr. McNab ye’re right.” 

Jack said, “Then it is Mr. all around, is it?” 

Bill replied, “I am afraid it would come a little unhandy 
to always call Sandy, here, Mr. McNab. Still there would 
be some fun in pulling it off on the fellers. Wouldn’t there 
now, Mr. McNab?” 

“My mother always said, ‘There’s nathing awa like a bit 
o’ guid manners’ — she said, ‘a bit o’ the mense;’ but ye 
uneducated swankies wadna understand that. I’ve had to 
modify my dialect since I came here.” 

Bill’s comment was, “Not any that you could notice.” 

The sheriff including in his glance both of his companions 
declared, “Well, it’s agreed. We’ll pull it off that way.” 

Jack said, “Just watch us,” and all laughed. 

Then Jack appealed to his more experienced companions 
for help : “Say men, as you of course observed as soon as I 
came in sight, I am the tenderest of tender-feet. I do not 
know how to behave in Cripple Creek society. Any advice 
that you are willing to give me will be gratefully received.” 

Sandy was the first to answer: “Weel I observed ye were 
a wee bit pert wi the birkie behint the winnock. It was a’ 
right wi the callan behint the winnock but gin ye do that way 
ava in Cripple Crick, ye’ll get shot my bonnie chiel.” 

Jack laughed and said, “I think I get the drift, but would 
you mind translating, Mr. Lennox.” 


JACK GOES TO CRIPPLE CREEK 167 


“With pleasure, Mr. Venator. I hardly ever understand 
anything Sandy — I mean Mr. McNab — says; but I think he 
was trying to tell ye something like this: You were a little 
brash with the galoot behind the window at the ticket office ; 
and that was all right, but when you come to Cripple Creek, 
look out.’^ 

“I see, I will put on the soft pedal. I’ll travel slow; I’ll 
throttle down to five miles an hour.” 

Jack’s slang was about as new to these men as their ’s to 
him. However one of the most significant characteristics of 
a slang expression is that it is almost universally intelligible. 
They understood him at once; and Bill said, “That’s the 
idea, don’t put in coal for a while, and watch your safety 
valve.” 

Sandy said, “Are you afeard, laddie?” 

Jack as usual said the unexpected, he answered, “That is 
just what I am. I’m afraid, but the inconsistent thing about 
my cowardice is that I always forget to run.” 

Sandy looked at him quizzically and said, “Oh, weel lad- 
die, ye’ll do — But what were ye spierin’ whan I stapped ye 
for ca’ing me Meester McNab?” 

“Oh, yes, when you were so particular not to have the time 
of your residence overstated, I was about to say, ‘I see Mr. 
McNab has the Scotch conscience’!” 

Bill commented, “Yes, he has the Scotch conscience all 
right, but you ought to see him in a bar-room fight.” 

Jack said, “I suppose if a man’s ethical sense is not de- 
ficient, and he has a conscience untrammeled by remorse, he 
would do all the better execution even in an unpleasantness 
in a liquor emporium.” ' 

Sandy looked at him with undisguised admiration. He 
had the Scotch love for big words, that comes from listening 
for generations to recondite doctrinal sermons. He said, 


DIFFERENT 


i68 

“The chiel talks like a beuk. Is it na beautifu’, Mr. Len- 
nox.” 

Bill said, “It’s all right. Let him give the childer all of 
that he wants to.” 

When the three men left the train at the station the crowd 
gathered there looked curiously at Jack, whose clothes, and 
bearing, and complexion loudly proclaimed him an “East- 
erner.” 

As they walked down the main street they met a drunken 
man, who was wending his uncertain way along the pave- 
ment. When they came near him, seemingly enraged at 
Jack’s well-cut clothes, he made a fierce plunge at the young 
stranger. Jack sprang nimbly aside, and his assailant tumbled 
into the gutter. Jack laughed good naturedly. The on- 
lookers gave him their tentative approval. They admired his 
activity. They approved of his self-restraint shown in his 
not striking the drunken man. They were pleased and a 
little surprised that Jack was not frightened. 

The hero of the whiskey bottle gathered himself up and 
started to charge Jack again; but was brought up abruptly 
by Bill, who throwing back his coat and showing his star, 
sternly ordered the offender to leave town, at the same time 
helping him to mount his horse, which stood near. The man 
was able to ride better than he could walk, and with many 
vile oaths went careering out of the village. 

As Jack and his companions continued their way towards 
Bill’s home Sandy gave further advice: “Ye’re like mysel’, 
laddie, ye hae a fatal gift o’ humor. Ye will hae to tak care 
o’ that, mon. I was compeeled to shoot a man, the first 
week I was here ava. It a’ cam aboot fra my fatal sense 
o’ humor. He spiered, ‘Say stranger can ye tell me the 
shortest way to hell?’ An’ I said, ‘Ye just keep on a gaein 
the road ye’re gangin,’ an’ he tried to fell me. My bullet 


JACK GOES TO CRIPPLE CREEK 169 


pleughed alang the tap o’ his pow, an’ he no cam to for 
aught ’oors; but he reveeved. Creeple Crick has na onie 
sense o’ humor.” 

Jack answered, “Thank you Mr. McNab, I’ll be careful 
of my fatal humor.” 

Jack turning to Bill inquired, “Is that not a hotel just 
across the street?” 

Bill replied, “Ye see Mr. Venator, ye’re to stay with me. 
I have a ranch and I have a gold mine; and they have both 
done well this year. You just live with me and it will cost 
you nary a cent.” 

“But Mr. Lennox I couldn’t think of staying on those 
terms.” 

“Oh, you needn’t think you’re not paying anything for 
your board. I have a boy thirteen years old and a girl eleven 
and neither of them know any more about the English 
language than me or McNab. You just learn them chil- 
der how to sling your English at odd times, and you’ll pay 
your board all right.” 

“That’s easy. I shall certainly be willing to do that.” 

When they reached Bill’s home. Jack looked with interest 
at what his host humorously denominated “my mansion.” It 
consisted of an immense living room built of logs. The in- 
side face of the logs were faced, and plastered between. There 
was a wide open wood-fire place surrounded by a mantel con- 
sisting of two beech logs supporting a wide, thick slab of the 
same wood. Bill had just recently brought mechanics up 
from Denver and had a shining, highly finished hard-wood 
floor put down over the original planks. He had also had 
a hard wood base board constructed around the bottom of the 
walls, and had the inside window trimmings replaced by 
hard-wood. Over the floor were scattered somewhat indis- 
criminately pieces of carpet of various sizes, colors, and de- 


170 


DIFFERENT 


grees of preservation, with a few beautiful homemade rugs 
of the skins of .animals. The walls were decorated with guns 
and fishing tackle ; and a few good animal heads, testimonials 
of Bill’s prowess as a hunter and the taxidermist’s skill in 
reproduction and preservation. 

Back of the living room was a log dining room of ample 
proportions, but without ornamentation or any attempt to 
improve its original ugliness. It’s one redeeming feature was 
a large fire-place much like the one which helped to beautify 
the front room. Back of the dining room was a log kitchen. 
These three rooms constituted the original house. Beside the 
log-house, on the west end, had been erected a frame addi^ 
tion, very much resembling an immense store-box in its archi- 
tectural proportions. Like everything constructed by Bill, it 
was of large dimensions. One entered this addition by a 
door in the back corner, of the west end of the living-room. 
This door led into a hall some fifteen feet square. On one 
side was a wood fire-place, which had been bricked up and a 
highly polished wood-stove placed in front of it. A stairway 
led to the rooms above. The remainder of the “new house,” 
as Bill had denominated the frame addition, consisted of a 
long room occupying the whole front, a room fifteen feet 
square immediately behind the square hall, and a large square 
room occupying the northwest corner. This structure had 
been erected by Bill, while Mrs. Lennox and the children 
were upon a long visit in the East, without consulting either 
his wife or an architect. He deplored the fact that he had 
forgotten to provide for any entrance to the “new house” 
from without until Jack assured him that it is much better 
as it is. He said that visitors would receive a much better im- 
pression by entering the living room first. Bill at once ac- 
cepted this, supposing Jack to mean that after entering the 
old house they would experience a feeling of agreeable sur- 


JACK GOES TO CRIPPLE CREEK 


171 


prise on entering the new building. 

Bill had erected six chimneys to provide a fire for each of 
the intended six bed-rooms, with little regard for the first 
story, which gave some rather surprising results. For in- 
stance the long room was provided with three chimneys and 
placing one chimney in the interior, gave him seven bed- 
rooms instead of six by dividing one of the large rooms into 
two. Knowing that his wife disliked stoves, he built a big 
stone chimney between the square hall and the square room 
behind it, and constructed four open fire places, one in the 
back room, one in the room above it, one above the square 
hall, and as noted, one in the hall. The other five chimneys 
were built on the outside of the house. Mrs. Lennox used 
the first story room with the open fire-place, as a sewing 
room; the room above was assigned to Jack; the large north- 
west room on the lower floor was used by the children for 
a play-room. The long front room Bill hoped sometime to 
fit up for a parlor. When Jack looked at it he wondered 
how he could hope. 

Five bed rooms were heated by wood stoves. Bill em- 
ployed a gigantic Asiatic from North China as a handy man 
around the house. This huge Oriental did the cooking, set 
and waited on the table, did the laundry work, and every 
morning went like a cyclone through the bed rooms, throwing 
off the bed-clothes and turning over the mattresses. Mrs. 
Lennox then made the beds and kept the bed rooms and living 
room in order. When Mrs. Lennox was away the yellow 
man did everything. 


CHAPTER XVII 


The Neighborhood Bully 

**Men while teaching learn/' 

— Seneca (Epistolae 7-8). 

W HEN Bill returned from the train on which his 
guest had arrived, he presented him to Mrs. Len- 
nox. Jack liked her at once. She was a little 
plump, brown eyed, pleasant faced woman, who took life 
easily and did not worry. She was a little disappointed that 
she was not consulted, when Bill erected the addition to the 
house; but did not dwell on the odd results of this omission. 
She could not be angry at Bill for she knew that his reticence 
concerning his plans for enlarging the house implied no slight ; 
that in the goodness of his heart he had simply planned for 
her what he intended as a delightful surprise. He thought 
the important thing was to build. It never occurred to him 
that it could make any difference how he built. She some- 
times half wished that Bill would move to the East, where 
she had been reared, but she never permitted this half- crystal- 
lized thought to develop into a want. 

She had grown up on a Western Pennsylvania farm ; had 
gone to a country school ,* and then after a term at the State 
Normal College had become a school-teacher. After teaching 
for a few years elsewhere, she came to Colorado, where she 
met and married Bill. In her years of association with illit- 
erate people, she had fallen back into the grammatical errors 
af her childhood, and no longer made any effort to speak 
correctly. 


172 


THE NEIGHBORHOOD BULLY 


173 


She greeted Jack kindly, and looked with evident approval 
at the cut of his clothes and gentlemanly bearing. The two 
children romped into the room, but seeing a stranger present, 
at once became shy. Jack’s easy manner however soon won 
their confidence. 

The boy, George, had the strong body of his father, but the 
brown eyes and hair of his mother. Marie, the little girl, 
also inherited her mother’s eyes, and the white skin and luxu- 
riant flaxen hair of a remote maternal ancestor. 

They could both read fairly well, and write passably. The 
boy had a good knowledge of arithmetic. Neither seemed to 
have acquired much knowledge of grammar, geography, or 
history; but to Jack’s surprise they could both spell much bet- 
ter than children of their respective ages in the eastern 
schools. 

Mrs. Lennox explained that they were able to give their 
children a good education and intended to do so; but that 
they felt that both the boy and girl needed some more training 
before they could venture to send them away to school. Jack 
assured her that he would do his best, and that if his impres- 
sion of the children was correct, his best ought to be fairly 
good. 

On further inquiry Jack learned that he was “to keep 
school” in the Public School house; that it was a subscrip- 
tion school ; that it would consist of twenty pupils ; and that 
“the two hundred dollars had all been paid in, every red 
cent.” 

Bill had secured the subscriptions, and immediately after 
he had secured the money — he was acting as treasurer, and 
assured Jack that he would not let any of the “cash” get 
away from him. 

Ja'ck said, “I am sure, Mr. Lennox, the cash could not be 
in better hands.” 


174 


DIFFERENT 


Bill looked at Mrs. Lennox with a humorous twinkle and 
explained : “Mr. Venator says that I ought to be called Mr. 
Lennox.” He wisely omitted to say, “before George and 
Marie.” 

His wife replied, “I noticed that you introduced me as 
Mrs. Lennox instead of Belle. I want you to call me 
Belle, when speaking to me ; but I think it is better to speak 
of me as Mrs. Lennox, when talking to other people.” 

To the surprise of everybody, but to the delight of her 
father, Marie piped, “I think everybody orter call Daddy 
Mister. Everybody calls the man in the bank Mister Peter- 
son. My daddy is just as good as Mister Peterson.” 

Jack commented, “That is the idea Marie, your English is 
a little shaky, but we shall look after that later. George and 
Marie, I’ll tell you what I think': you ought to call all persons 
Mr. and Mrs., who are older than you and who are not kins- 
folk. Of course you would not say Mrs. to your mother or 
your aunt.” 

George did not burn his bridges behind him with his sis- 
ter’s reckless abandon ; but he seemed to think rather well of 
what Jack said. 

At this moment there was a great commotion on the street : 
the barking of dogs, the rattle of a delivery wagon, and the 
shouting of a man. A young man of about twenty years 
from the butcher-shop had arrived. The children both ran 
to the front door. Marie cried: “Hello, Mr. Reed;” and 
turning to her mother said, “Here is Mr. Reed with the 
meat.” 

George hesitated for a moment, and then greeted the 
butcher’s boy with, “Hello Chuck!” 

Mrs. Lennox directed that the meat be delivered at the 
back, where it Would be received by the Chinaman. Just then 
a well dressed fine looking man, an attorney, passed by, and 


THE NEIGHBORHOOD BULLY 


175 


smiling nodded at the children. George at once said, “Hello, 
Mr. Buchanan,” and Marie’s contralto voice repeated the 
salutation. When the children returned to the house. Jack ex- 
pressed approval, “That promises very well. I see, you are 
learning fast. I notice George seems to make some discrim- 
ination in regard to whom he honors with the title. That, 
however, is pardonable ; but I don’t believe I should salute a 
man of Mr. Buchanan’s evident standing with “Hello.” 

George replied, “That’s what everybody says. How would 
you do it?” 

“It would depend on the time of day. How would, good 
morning or good evening or good day do now and then, 
instead of ‘hello?’ ” 

Marie inquired anxiously, “Is that what you say?” 

Jack laughed. “Yes always, when speaking to very dig- 
nified people.” The children were convinced. 

George probably for some hereditary reason, was, as his 
father said, “a little disposed to be a dude.” He admired 
Jack’s clothes very much. This increased the collegian’s in- 
fluence over the boy ; and as he knew that George would imi- 
tate what his teacher did as well as his dress and manners, it 
made Venator careful of his conduct. 

The school opened quietly. Jack was somewhat surprised 
to find in attendance a few young men and young women 
as old as he. When he noted their size and age he was a lit- 
tle apprehensive ; but as none of the larger pupils appeared to 
be vicious, he decided that he would not anticipate any un- 
pleasantness. 

He at times found it necessary to use the rod on some of 
the smaller boys. This ultimately brought trouble. One day 
a boy of about thirteen years flatly refused to obey him ; and 
did not yield until after he was soundly threshed. News of 
this severe measure travelled with great rapidity throughout 


176 


DIFFERENT 


the whole community. The neighborhood bully went to 
school one day for the purpose of disciplining Jack. As Jack 
learned after this ominous visit was over, “Buck Lewis,” the 
avenger of the boy who had been whipped, equipped himself 
with a butcher-knife before he left home. This instrument of 
destruction he concealed in his boot. Buck entered the school 
room about eleven o’clock without knocking and unan- 
nounced. He strode boldly in and settled himself awkward- 
ly and not very comfortably on one of the low front seats. 
Jack at once suspected that he meant trouble. He was a lit- 
tle scared, and he was a good deal provoked. His mental 
comment was “well I am in for it. I will have to bluff it 
through.” The school-room was very still. Jack after greet- 
ing the stranger pleasantly kept his eye fixed on him, look- 
ing straight into the eye of the bully. Now, when Jack was 
provoked his was not a comfortable eye to look into. He 
permitted the silence to continue for a full minute, and then 
continued the recitations, still holding the unwelcome in- 
truder with a steady look. The champion of the boy who 
had been punished was bigger and stronger than Jack, and 
had much animal courage. He had been in many fights and 
more often than not had been victor ; but he had never before 
encountered a young man of Jack’s type. Had he made his 
attack as soon as he entered it would have gone badly for the 
Eastern lad ; but after Buck sat under the gaze of that steady 
hazel eye for a full hour he became nervous, and lost his 
courage. 

He became anxious. The situation was new. It was not 
like attacking a boy with whom one had wrestled every day 
at school, knowing what he could do and what he would do. 
This stranger did not seem scared. He must have some rea- 
son for not being afraid. He had heard of slim athletes well 
trained in the art of self defense “knocking out” big, strong, 


THE NEIGHBORHOOD BULLY 177 

double fisted bullies like himself. If this “dude teacher” 
should thresh him everybody would laugh at him. If he 
should thresh the teacher Bill Lennox would probably either 
thresh him or arrest him — may be both. It might be better 
to withdraw from this enterprise before his intentions were 
generally known. By the end of the hour when the bell rang 
for the noon recess, Buck’s courage, little by little, had entire- 
ly oozed away. Besides he had done more hard thinking in 
the last sixty minutes than he had done in the preceding 
month, and he was somewhat exhausted. 

Jack saw at once that whatever ill purpose this young man 
had in mind, had been abandoned. He suspected that Buck 
had changed his mind because he did not know what defense 
would be offered and Jack made full use of this advantage. 

Buck was not very well satisfied with himself, and was con- 
sequently surly. He tried to pick a fight with one of Jack’s 
adult pupils; but Jack immediately stepped between them and 
kept between them until the noon hour had ended. Buck 
then left not very proud of the outcome of his enterprise, but 
still congratulating himself that he had not taken “any fool 
risks.” 

Jack did not mention the incident to Mr. or Mrs. Len- 
nox. The children had no clear conception of what had hap- 
pened. 

Buck had made his unsatisfactory visit about three weeks 
after the opening of the “Summer School.” Jack had sent 
a short note to Box 77 immediately upon his arrival at Crip- 
ple Creek, and had received a brief reply, asking him to write 
at greater length about “the interesting experience” upon 
which he was entering. 

A few days after the advent of Buck and his butcher-knife, 
Lucile received the following letter: 

“Dear Lucile : — In your all too brief reply to the an- 


178 


DIFFERENT 


nouncement of my safe arrival, you speak of ‘the interesting 
experience’ of your devoted admirer. Yes it is interesting all 
right, and the interest does not seem to be abating. For in- 
stance, the other day the village bully came to the school- 
house equipped with a butcher-knife intending to carve me 
up into little pieces — I suppose he might properly be called 
‘the village cut-up.’ No, I did not heroically spring upon 
him, and wresting the knife from his hand, chastise him for 
his temerity in attacking a man of my importance and conse- 
quence. 

As a matter of fact, I should have been even worse scared 
than I was had I known about the butcher-knife. He had 
it snugly tucked away in his boot-top, where he could reach 
it easily in case he decided to slaughter any one. I did not 
learn of this murderous weapon until the incident was closed. 
It was a game of pure bluff on both sides. He broke into 
my society about eleven o’clock. I immediately fixed my eye 
on him, and with considerable effort kept looking into his 
eyes most of the time for the next hour. This made him 
nervous, and by the noon recess he was so uncomfortable that 
he seemed to forget what he was there for. So I live to tell 
this tale of mock heroics. 

I live with Bill Lennox, County Sheriff. He is a strap- 
ping, big, strong, wholesome fellow. He is on the Board of 
Trustees of the Methodist Church here, and is altogether 
quite respectable and influential. Neither he nor his wife 
speak good English: he because he does not know how; she 
because she declines to take the trouble. She is an old school- 
teacher and knows how. She is a sort of philosopher and 
does not believe in doing things unless she thinks them worth 
while. She is just now paying me the compliment of being 
a little more careful with her grammar. 

The two children are as good raw material as can be pro- 


THE NEIGHBORHOOD BULLY 


179 


duced by any race or breed. They have good minds, good 
dispositions, and are both great lookers. 

The boy is occasionally disposed to be a little obstreper- 
ous; but so long as I wear becoming ties and good fitting 
clothes, I think I shall be able to keep my grip on him. Thus 
far he regards the ties and the clothes as my two strong 
points. 

This house is the most nondescript, most comfortable, and 
in its living room has the greatest possibility of beauty of any 
home in the state, probably. I shall not attempt to describe 
it in a letter. That will keep until I see you. I suppose if 
your mother knew of the butcher-knife incident she would 
wish that the knife had gotten into successful operation. 

I send my regards to her — deliver them if you dare. This 
is a typical mining town. The only thing about it that is of 
high character is its elevation. Of course there are a few 
good people here: Bill and Sandy McNab and a few men of 
like character. Sandy is one of those Scotchmen not infre- 
quently found in frontier towns, who can fight and pray with 
equal facility, and who will lie for the good of his fellow 
man. 

I spend my time teaching, correcting the English of the 
Lennox children, studying the natives, and thinking of you. 
If it were not that I can think of you and do something else 
at the same time I fear I should not have much time for the 
teaching, the English, and the natives. 

Please write soon and long. 

Yours always, 


Jack. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


Jack Joins Bill’s Posse and Repairs Bill’s Grammar 

''But screw your courage up to the sticking point 
And wedl not fail/" — Macbeth. 

A S Jack did not frequent the saloons he did not come 
into frequent contact with the rougher element of 
Cripple Creek. One, however, cannot live long in the 
midst of a population largely made up of ruffians and ad- 
venturers and wholly escape contact with such characters. 
Jack’s baptism of blood came about through his loyalty to his 
sturdy host. 

A mail coach had been looted and the robbers had been 
traced to a saloon which was notorious as a rendezvous of 
criminals. Bill had a warrant for their arrest. It was 
known that there were six highwaymen. Bill had two as- 
sistants and had deputized Sandy McNab and one other to 
join them when making the raid. 

The stage robbery was the prevailing theme of conversa- 
tion throughout the village. It was of course discussed at 
the Lennox table. Mrs. Lennox was a little nervous about 
the coming attempt to arrest the bandits. She asked a great 
many questions. Bill tried to avoid going into details as 
much as possible; but a circumspect man is seldom ever a 
match for an anxious woman. In her own seemingly lazy 
way, Mrs. Lennox admired her big, strong, honest, manly 
husband; and while she gloried in his courage, she was al- 
ways anxious when he was in danger. By ingenious ques- 
tions and quick inference she brought out the fact that while 

i8o 


JACK JOINS BILL’S POSSE 


i8i 


there were six criminals, there were only five officers to arrest 
them. Bill admitted that it would be better to have an equal 
number of officers. He said, “This is not a prize fight or an 
athletic contest that we be goin’ to pull off. You can 
never have too many officers. The less chance you give crim- 
inals for a fight the better for all parties; but I ain’t a’goin 
to swear in deputies that I do not know.’^ He then turned to 
Jack and said: “If you’ll go I’d like to have you. You 
wouldn’t make a hulla-balloo. A noisy officer is no good.” 

Jack laughed just a little nervously and replied: “Mr. 
Lennox I am not sure that I would be very useful. I might 
run. I cannot give you any guarantee as to how I shall act ; 
but as I know yoq would stand by me in danger, I think 
I’ll make a try at it. I make no pretense that I am going into 
this because of any thirst for slaughter, or because of any 
indifference to danger.” 

“I know men, Mr. Venator. You haven’t any hankerin’ 
to git hurt; but I don’t think there is a yellow streak about 
you anyhere.” Jack was recovering a little from his sur- 
prise and rejoined: “Just look at my necktie.” He wore 
a black tie with a tiny yellow stripe. Bill commented: 
‘Well, there is just a little bit o’ yellow in that there tie; but 
so long as your yellow streak’s on the outside, ye’ll do.” 
Jack added, “Besides, I suppose this tie will not last long, if 
those bandits set about mussing me up.” 

Mrs. Lennox interposed, “Yes, Mr. Venator do go, some- 
how I would feel safer about Bill if you were along.” 

Jack answered with a smile, “I guess Bill thinks that is 
pretty funny. I might serve as a sort of lightning-rod.” 

“I remember you said that you alius fergit to run. That is 
the sort o’ fellers I want.” 

Jack replied, “Oh, I know just about what I’m going into 
this time. You see I can be all ready to run before I go in.” 


DIFFERENT 


182 

“Well don’t.” 

“I won’t.” 

Jack was considerably excited and seeking to quiet his 
nerves by badinage said, “Mrs. Lennox, where can I store 
this frail husband of yours while I go down and arrest 
the train robbers?” 

“I am sure I wish you would store him somewhere. I 
never like to see him starting out on one of his raids.” 

“You, however, seem quite willing to sacrifice me to the 
good of the cause.” 

“Well, I’m not married to you; but I wish neither of you 
had to go.” 

Jack replied, “Of course if Bill doesn’t survive there is no 
telling what might happen.” 

Bill laughed uproariously and said, “Mr. Venator I guess 
you’re just joking to keep your courage up.” 

Jack answered, “Guessed it right the first time.” 

Just then Sandy appeared and was cordially greeted by 
everybody present. 

Bill said with pride, “Mr. McNab, allow me to introduce 
my new deputy.” 

Sandy laughed. “Weel, weel, cheil are ye no afeard ye’ll 
gar your shoon to lose their blackin?” 

“Yes, I am afraid of that and a great many other things.” 

“It winna do muckle harm, mon, to be afeard. Ye ken 
ye said, ye wad no rin.” 

“I am afraid that was an unfortunate boast. Mr. Lennox 
was quoting it just before you came in. However, maybe it 
is a good thing for our present enterprise that I said it — I 
can hardly afford to run now.” 

“Na, Na, ye winna rin.” 

“No I’ll not so long as I can keep control of my legs.” 

The time now approached when they should attempt the 


JACK JOINS BILL’S POSSE 


183 


arrest. Bill handed Jack a big revolver, and what he called 
a “Handy-billy” — a short stick-like leather covered weapon 
with a pound of lead in one end. Jack looked deprecatingly 
at the weapons and said, “Oh lord no — I don’t wish to kill 
anybody.” 

Bill replied, “Well somebody may want to kill you.” 

Jack took the two weapons somewhat gingerly and said 
“I’ll not use the artillery except in an emergency, but the 
billy may come in handy.” 

The other three deputies joined them as they left the house 
and the six men proceeded toward the saloon that the high- 
waymen were known to have entered. They were expect- 
ing the attack. Their plan was to disable Bill. They 
counted on this to make a diversion, and hoped in the con- 
fusion to break away. Bud Ewing the saloon-keeper had 
laid down the law as follows: 

“It is all right for you fellers to fight it out right here; 
but don’t you do any shootin’ unless they begin to shoot 
first.” 

It is a curious fact that Bud, although a desperate char- 
acter himself and in sympthay with the criminal classes, felt 
that he had a kind of respectability to maintain. 

One of the laws of his house was that there must be no 
killing on his premises. This posted proclamation of the 
vender of alcoholic beverages was no more surprising to his 
patrons than the sign “no smoking” in the general waiting 
room of a railroad station. Of course a bulletin displayed 
in the corridors of one of our eastern hotels declaring that no 
killing is allowed would excite not only surprise but dismay 
— but not so in Bud Ewing’s saloon. 

Bill Lennox knew of this somewhat startling rule of Bud’s 
establishment, and also knew that it was very generally 
heeded by the criminals who were wont to assemble there, 


184 


DIFFERENT 


for the very good reason that they could not afford to be shut 
out from this convenient shelter. 

Accordingly he directed his deputies to loosen their re- 
volvers so they could be easily withdrawn from their holsters 
if the occasion demanded it, and to enter the saloon with 
only their billies in their hands. He hoped in this way to 
capture the train robbers without manslaughter. Bill would 
kill a man without hesitation if it became necessary in the 
discharge of his duty; but whenever possible he avoided 
bloodshed. 

He asked Jack to keep near to him, probably hoping to be 
able to give him some protection. He and the college boy 
entered together, the others following. 

The leader of the bandits gave the command, “Club your 
guns”; and every man seized his big Colt revolver by the 
barrel, the heavy butt swinging clear. This made an ugly 
weapon. Then they charged Bill en masse. Just as the 
weapon of their leader was descending on Bill’s head. Jack 
sprang at the chief, putting his muscular power, weight, and 
momentum into one of his favorite underhand blows. The 
effect was tremendous and the robber fell in a heap among 
his fellows just as Jack was knocked unconscious by a blow 
from behind. Bill brought down two men in rapid succes- 
sion. Sandy felled one of his countrymen who belonged to 
the robbers’ band with the remark, “I’ll gar ye sleep a bit.” 
Three of the younger deputies had joined forces against a big 
fellow who could have disabled any one of them with ease. 
He had been felled from behind by a blow from a billy; and 
the three young fellows were sitting on him. This left only 
one of the bandits unhurt — a little man, both short of stature 
and light of weight. He was slipping up behind Bill, in- 
tending to attack him from the rear. Bill detected him just 
as the leader of the enemy sprang to his feet and charged the 


JACK JOINS BILL’S POSSE 185 

sheriff with a stool that he seized as he rose. Bill was equal 
to the occasion: turning quickly he grasped the little man 
and lifting him high above his head, brought him crashing 
down on the man approaching with the stool. The leader 
and his plucky little comrade went down together. Bill 
stood over him with his billy and said, “It’s no use my fine 
buck, you might as well give it up before anybody has any 
broken bones.” The leader said, “I’m afraid it’s all up, 
boys — line up.” The two men whom Bill had first knocked 
down circumspectly remained on the floor until they heard 
their leader’s command, when they sprang to their feet and 
“lined up.” This brought four men under Bill’s authority. 
The three young deputies released their stalwart prisoner 
and he too stood up. The man whom Sandy had put to 
sleep slowly regained his feet and staggered into line. Bill 
slipped handcuffs on all of his prisoners, and commanded 
them to form in line and march. Four of the deputies each 
walked beside a prisoner, while Bill took charge of the 
leader and the little man with whom he had clubbed him. 
Just as they left Jack regained consciousness and scrambled 
up. He was in a sorry plight. The blow from the pistol 
butt had made an ugly scalp wound which bled profusely. 
He had fallen forward and lying on his face the blood flowed 
over it. He seemed to have received a dreadful wound, but 
in fact was not badly injured. By the time he had gotten 
his wits sufficiently to realize where he was and what had 
happened, friends and foes had gone. The saloon keeper 
was somewhat alarmed when he first beheld Jack’s gory ap- 
pearance, but soon discovered that he had not received a 
dangerous wound. He obligingly furnished Jack with a 
basin of water, in which he washed his face. Bud then 
brushed the collegian’s clothes, all the time compliment- 
ing him on the blow that brought down the robber chief. 


DIFFERENT 


1 86 

Although pale and weak from the loss of blood, Jack was 
again smiling, cheerful, and debonair. He said to Bud, 
“Thank you old man. You’re white, but your background 
is a little off color.” 

“What do you mean by that, young fellow?” 

“I mean your business hardly brings you into good society.” 

“Oh, I run this laboratory for the money that is in it. I 
was not always in this business. As a matter of fact it is 
not wholly congenial. Necessitas non legem habet.'" 

“Oh, I see you have had the advantage of the schools.” 

“Yes, I was two years at Yale. I know my mother tongue 
but I find it better to talk the lingo of the Rockies while I 
am in this business. I guessed that you were not a native 
ignoramus and so opened up a bit to you. 

Jack asked suddenly, “How old are you?” 

“Twenty-eight last Saturday.” 

“Shake this whole cheap gang and go back to Yale and 
finish up.” 

“I’ll think about it, but you had better go some place and 
get sewed up.” 

“Thanks, old man, good-bye. I’m off to the scalp artist.” 

Jack went straightway to a doctor’s office and had his 
wound closed by well placed stitches. He reached the Len- 
nox house just as Bill arrived. 

The sheriff greeted him with enthusiasm. “I’m bloomin’ 
glad to see you Mr. Venator. You did great work.” 

“I didn’t last long. I merely waded in and got myself 
knocked on the head.” 

“The important thing was that you waded in; and waded 
in at just the right time. There were too many people jump- 
ing on me at once. Your undercut saved the day.” 

“I can see that it may have made the necessary diversion.” 

“It sure did. The head of the gang came down like a 


JACK JOINS BILL’S POSSE 


187 


beef.” 

“I got a good, clean swing and nothing interfered with it 
until I landed.” 

Just then Sandy appeared saying, “I thought I would just 
bide awee for Meester Venator; but faith I see he’s here. 
How be ye, me bonnie billie?” 

“Oh, I am as good as new, Mr. McNab. That rough- 
neck certainly did give me a powerful swipe with his shooter.” 

“’Twas no sa bonnie as the wallup ye gied the maister 
knave. It gars me greet, ye did not git back at the swankie 
wha banged ye.” 

Jack laughed appreciatively, but answered, “Don’t let us 
be vindictive. I am very well satisfied that my skull was not 
fractured. Let him have all the glory that is coming to him 
for cutting my scalp open.” 

Sandy lived on the other side of the town and as soon as 
he was assured of Jack’s safety hurried away and Bill and 
his young deputy entered the house. Mrs. Lennox was very 
glad to see them both safe back. She, however, wished to 
hear all about the fray. There is enough of the primitive 
female in the most gentle woman to make her delight in the 
narration of a tale that has to do with an encounter in which 
brawny men measure strength and skill. 

Jack said, “You will have to ask Mr. Lennox. I do not 
know much more about it than if I had not been there. 
When we entered the saloon I saw six men rush at Mr. Len- 
nox with clubbed revolvers. As the newspaper reporters 
say, ‘I swung heavily on the leader’s jaw with my right.’ 
That is all I saw. When I waked up the game was over. 
Everybody except our friend Bud Ewing had gone. I do 
not know what happened.” 

Bill gave a good description of the fight to which his 
deputy listened with as much interest as Mrs. Lennox. 


i88 


DIFFERENT 


Jack did not say anything about Bud Ewing’s educational 
advantages, as he suspected that the saloon keeper did not 
wish Cripple Creek to know that he was a college man. He 
however, ventured to say, “Bud Ewing does not seem to me 
to be half bad.” 

Bill said, “He isn’t; but he is a Socialist and purty near 
an Anarchist, and insists upon associating with a gang of 
thieves and thugs.”, 

“That athletic young Methodist minister of yours ought 
to look after him. Set him on his trail. He’ll do him good. 
There is nothing wrong with Bud probably except that he 
has a grouch at the world. Make a try at him anyway.” 

“Golly, I believe you’re right. Our pastor can reach him 
if anybody can. He is no Willie-boy.” 

Bud Ewing’s history is not essential to this narrative, but 
it may interest the reader to know that through the influence 
of this strong, frank, manly young preacher. Bud united with 
the Methodist church and the following autumn resumed 
his course at Yale. 

At the end of a month’s residence with the Lennox fam- 
ily, Jack had the two children speaking a language very dif- 
ferent from the Rocky Mountain patois that prevailed in 
Cripple Creek. Mrs. Lennox, after being corrected a few 
times by her children began to exercise a strict surveillance 
of her tongue that resulted in the avoidance of all gram- 
matical errors. 

Jack called Bill’s attention to the fact that his wife was 
now speaking correctly and the children were fast learning 
the grammar of their laguage, and said, “Mr. Lennox it 
will never do to have these children to whom you intend to 
give a good education, ashamed of their father’s use of Eng- 
lish. It is up to you to learn how to speak your mother 
tongue.” 


JACK JOINS BILL’S POSSE 


189 

“Wal, I never got no further than the three R’s — Read- 
in’, ’ritin,’ and ’rithmetic. I’m purty good at all them.” 

“Yes, I know you are, and that makes it quite certain that 
you can learn to speak correctly. You have a good mind. 
You would be surprised if I should tell you the number of 
mistakes in that sentence that you have just uttered. Take 
that first word, ‘wal.’ There is no such word. If I should 
say to you just now, ‘How are you,’ what would you an- 
swer?” 

“I’d say, I’m well.” 

“That is the same word with which you began your sen- 
tence.” 

“You would not say, ‘I am wal’ and you should not say 
‘wal’ when you use the word to introduce the sentence.” 

“By George, I didn’t know it was the same word.” 

“I never got no further. Do you not see that you do not 
need that ‘no?’ ” “I never got further says it much better, 
does it not?” 

“Yes, it somehow sounds better. I don’t see no use in 
the ‘no.’ ” 

“There you are again with the same mistake. How would 
it do to say ‘I see no use?’ ” 

“Cracky yes, that helps it.” 

“Now you ^re enough of a logician to see why it helps it. 
You say ‘I see no use’ and you say what you are trying to 
say, but if you say, ‘I do not see no use’ it means that you 
do see some use, which is not at all what you are trying to 
say. If a man has not got no sense, he has some sense, but 
if he has got no sense, he is in a rather bad predicament.” 

“By the jumpin’ jingoes, I see it. Grammar is just plain 
common sense.” 

“You compliment it more than it deserves when you say 
that Grammar is just plain common sense, but much of it 


190 


DIFFERENT 


is, which will give you a start. Be careful to do the best you 
know in pronouncing words. You know that word is not 
’rithmetic, that is not how it is spelled on the back of school 
books.” 

Bill took up a book from the table and read the title. “It 
begins with an ‘a.’ Do you know I never noticed that be- 
fore? — ‘arithmetic.’ ” 

“That is just where you are missing it. After this, when 
you are reading, notice how words are spelled and pronounce 
them as they are spelled. There is a ‘g’ at the end of words 
that have an ‘n’ in the last syllable, and mean doing some- 
thing. You read and you are reading. You write and you 
are writing. Do not forget to put on the ‘g.’ Do not say 
readin’ and writin’.” 

“I see, I am learning, not ‘learnin’.” 

Jack was greatly pleased and said, “You will do. I will 
have you ready for the state legislature, before the month is 
out.” 

The teacher shrewdly made this remark, because he had 
learned that Bill had political ambitions, but felt that his 
illiteracy shut him out from any such career. He knew, and 
Bill knew, and he knew that Bill knew that the brawny 
Cripple Creek Sheriff had better judgment and a better mind 
in every way than the men who had been representing the 
district in which Mr. Lennox served as a county officer. 

Jack told Bill to buy a Grammar for himself, and carry 
it about with him, until he had learned everything between 
the covers. 

Bill replied, “I’ll sure do that very thing, but you can 
learn me a little Grammar in the evenin’.” 

“Put a ‘g’ to the end of the last word, Mr. Lennox. 
That word ends like those doing words.” 

“All right evening — evening she is,” 


JACK JOINS BILL’S POSSE 


191 

“And do you not see that you will have to do the learn- 
ing. I cannot learn you. I can teach you. I am afraid 
you will have to do the learning.” 

“I see, I see, common sense again.” 

“Yes, common sense again. A man with your common 
and uncommon sense will soon catch on.” 

“How about ‘catch on?’ ” 

“Oh, that is slang. I do not object to a little slang now 
and then, when it exactly expresses what one is trying to say. 
Learn your Grammar and know good English and then, and 
not until then, will you be able to use slang effectively.” 

“I’ve noticed that you use slang right along, and yet that 
nobody would think of accusing you of not knowin’ — know- 
ing the language.” 

Bill had a receptive mind, and by the end of the month 
knew almost everything in his text book on grammar. He 
took particular delight in the principal parts of the ir- 
regular verbs and knew every one in common use. To 
his own great delight, and that of his wife and children 
he no longer said, “had went,” or “have came.” By con- 
stant repetition his ear became so well trained that any lapse 
in grammar grated on his sensibilities. He still made a good 
many mistakes himself, but seldom without noticing them 
and correcting them. Jack knew that he had practically 
mastered English Grammar and that he would rapidly and 
certainly form the habit of correct speech. ^ 

By the end of the summer school Jack and Bill had formed 
a friendship that lasted through life. 

Bill accompanied his departing friend to the train. As 
Jack swung aboard, after a warm hand clasp, he shouted, 
“Good-bye, God bless you old man.” Bill said solemnly, 
“The Lord be with you, Mr. Venator.” 

Our friend Bill now drops out of the narrative; but it is 


192 


DIFFERENT 


fitting that this veracious history record the fact that Bill’s 
political ambitions were realized. He made friends easily 
and easily retained the friends that he made. He had a 
good voice. These endowments, together with his good 
sense and known honesty ultimately secured for him a place 
in the legislature of his state. 


CHAPTER XIX 


Jack and Lucile Visit the Park 

"*Ye God's annihilate but space and time 
And make two lovers happy." — Pope. 

L ucile and jack had exchanged letters a number of 
times during the eight weeks of Jack’s absence. Jack’s 
letters retained their cheerful tone, but Lucile’s an- 
swers were much less hopeful. She still insisted that there 
was no way out of the difficulties with which they were 
surrounded. The very admirable sentiment which Jack 
termed her “filial piety, seemingly made it impossible for 
her to directly oppose the wishes and disobey the commands 
of her parents. 

She did not ask Jack to stop at Whitestown on his way 
home from Colorado, but wished very much that he would 
do so ; and felt very certain that he would find himself quite 
unable to pass through the neighboring city without seeing 
her. Jack was a little doubtful of his reception, but follow- 
ing his characteristic inclination to take a risk, he resolved 
to visit the home of his sweetheart. He arrived in the even- 
ing, after the dinner hour. Unfortunately as he walked up 
street, Mrs. Hammond saw him from a second story win- 
dow, and recognized afar off the strong free swing of the 
college boy. She answered the doorbell herself. She held the 
door ajar, and completely filled the open space, with her 
rather substantial body. Jack made his best bow and almost 
disarmed her with his frank and pleasant smile; but she 
summoned to her support the iron in her nature — of which 
she had a plentiful supply — and said, “Young man, you are 
193 


194 


DIFFERENT 


not wanted here. You go, and never come back. Never 
enter this door again.” 

Jack laughed and answered. 

“Me thinks the lady doth protest too much. But why 
‘again,’ I do not seem to have entered the door yet.” 

“Young man you have not entered the door and you will 
never enter it any more.” 

“Is that a prophecy? I will undertake to prove some time 
within the next five years that you are not inspired.” 

Mrs. Hammond, who as has been stated, had a sense of 
humor was unable to suppress the flash of a smile. She, 
however, had not only a sense of humor, but had many other 
accomplishments, not the least conspicuous of which was the 
power to rapidly work up a sort of artificial fury. Her face 
grew red, her dark eyes snapped, and with a look of wither- 
ing scorn she said, “Leave this place instantly.” 

Jack replied, “Instantly is pretty quick. Just give me a 
little time. I do not have wings, and you probably feel quite 
sure that I never shall have any such celestial equipment. I 
think I shall stand around in the street awhile. It will take 
time to have me removed from the street.” 

Mrs. Hammond violently slammed the door. 

Jack, without undue haste left the porch and walking 
down the steps, crossed the street and stood opposite the 
house until he caught a glimpse of Lucile, behind the curtain 
of one of the upper windows. His object was to make sure 
that Lucile had seen him. This accomplished he walked 
rapidly to the railway station and took the next train for the 
city. 

He reasoned thus: Lucile saw me. I saw her and she 
knows that I saw her, although I did not venture on any 
salute, because I knew her mother was watching me from 
some well selected point of vantage. Lucile will count on 


JACK AND LUCILE VISIT THE PARK 195 


my writing a description of my visit and reception. She will 
come tomorrow to the North Side to get the letter. I shall 
not write but I shall be right there myself, when she ap- 
proaches No. 77. 

Jack reasoned well. He took up a position just inside the 
entrance to the post office at half past nine o’clock the next 
morning. At a quarter after ten he saw Lucile approach. 
She was not as much surprised when he greeted her as he 
had expected. Lucile by this time, had come to know Jack 
pretty well, and was able to reason out his probable course, 
as well as he had anticipated the steps that she would prob- 
ably take to offset the coup of her relentless mother. 

Jack’s face lit up with a great joy. Lucile said, “Oh, 
Jack, I am so glad to see you. I wished to see you just 
once more.” 

Jack laughed happily. “Oh, say twice. Suppose you 
make up your mind to see me twice more.” 

“Jack I am afraid I ought not to see you now.” 

“The least of my troubles is being afraid. I know ‘Fools 
rush in where angels fear to tread’ ; but notwithstanding the 
implication I am glad I am not afraid.” 

“So am I Jack — so glad that you are not afraid. When 
I am with you somehow things do not seem so hopeless, but 
I know it is just a fool’s paradise.” 

“If you don’t be careful, Lucile, you will call us both 
fools. I do not object to calling myself a fool, but I do not 
like to have you call us both fools.” 

Lucile laughed, a sweet girlish, irresistible laugh and re- 
plied, “I am not sure that that is not just what we are. Ser- 
iously Jack, it is about you that I am troubled. We shall 
each become fonder of the other the longer this goes on. In- 
deed it seems to me we shall in time become almost neces- 
sary to one another. We ought to part now. It will spoil 


196 DIFFERENT 

your whole career if we go on.” 

“If you give me the deciding vote we shall not part now. 
In the first place, I do not see how I could become any fond- 
er of you than I am just now. Secondly, Nature made you 
necessary to me and that cannot be changed. Third, when 
the time comes I feel sure that we can resort to some kind of 
coup de maitre that will enable us to win out. I do not 
know what it will be, but things never get so bad that 
there is no way out. You are not enough of an optimist, 
Lucile.” 

“Maybe not, but I glory in your optimism. Jack.” 

“I believe I am a sort of cheerful idiot, I never squeal 
until I am hit.” 

“That sounds like a pig.” 

“Well, the figure is not bad. When I come to think of 
it, I do not believe you can bluff a pig into squealing. If 
you chase him he will run and grunt and snort, but he will 
not squeal until you hit him or really hurt him in some way. 
When you reflect you will see that we really have not been 
hurt yet.” 

“Oh, I don’t know, I don’t know. Why will mother be 
so perverse? Father likes you very much in spite of him- 
self.” 

“Herself.” 

“Well, yes, if it were not for herself he would not have 
to resist himself — that sounds a bit Irish, but it is true.” 

“Of course, we might elope, Lucile. I think your mother 
would be shrewd enough to see that what cannot be cured 
were best endured.” 

“Now, Jack, you know I would not elope.” 

“I do not know that. I do not wish to know. I am not 
ready for that. I shall not be ready for a long time. I 
could not support a wife now. I couldn’t support a fox 


JACK AND LUCILE VISIT THE PARK 197 


terrier while I am in college/’ 

“Thank you kindly for comparing me to a fox terrier.” 

“That is not a comparison. That is an argument a 
fortiori/^ 

“Yes, but don’t you see the more a fortiori you make it, 
the more extravagant you make me?” 

“It looks like that, but isn’t. I am not thinking of the way 
you would endure being supported, but the way you ought to 
be supported — the way I should wish to support you. By 
the way, that very common word, ‘support’ has a sort of odd 
effect, not at all intended — it sort of suggests the leaning 
tower of Pisa.” 

“I seem to suggest an odd assortment of things to you, a 
fo:^ terrier, a leaning tower, and I know not what other 
queer things.” 

“You suggest to me everything lovely. You suggest noth- 
ing odd but something very rare. There is no defect in my 
appreciation of you. It is the odd ambiguity of our mother 
tongue that brings the tower into the picture — the terrier has 
been justified.” 

Lucile responded gaily: 

“ ‘I like to see a little dog.’ ” 

Jack laughed approvingly. “Which suggests the first 
reader and the untroubled days of our childhood, where 
nothing was forbidden us more serious or disturbing than a 
second piece of pie. ‘How dear to my heart are the scenes 
of my childhood.’ ” 

Lucile smiled happily and said, “We have now advanced 
to the third reader.” 

“And will all too soon be back again to adult life, with 
the forbidding forms of those who decline to become my 
parents-in-law, in the immediate foreground.” 

“Just for today, let us not look at that picture.” 


DIFFERENT 


198 

“The picture does not trouble me greatly. Even the 
elopement doesn’t trouble me. My prophetic bones feel that 
something will turn up to make dernier resort unnecessary.” 

“Didn’t I just now taboo that whole subject?” 

“Yes, my lovely tyrant, so you did — Let us go to the 
park to look at the swans.” 

“I love to study ornithology.” 

“We might even find a convenient bench, where we may 
watch the passing trains and at the same time study the beau- 
ties of Nature.” 

Jack and Lucile, with little thought of the city’s pleasure 
grounds towards which they turned, tripped gaily off, happy 
in the companionship of one another. 

At noon. Jack proposed that they seek a restaurant. Lu- 
cile, with a humorous twinkle, began to open a music roll, 
which she carried, and with which, somewhat to Jack’s 
bewilderment, she had refused to part. When the leather 
roll was straightened out, it revealed a half dozen delicious 
sandwiches. 

Jack said, “You are certainly a most delightful anticipator 
of emergencies.” 

“You see this is much less conspicuous and much more 
proper than a restaurant.” 

“I am also afraid you mean that it is much cheaper for 
your impecunious lover.” 

“Well, isn’t it?”- 

“Oh, yes, that is undeniably true, but one does not like to 
have it rubbed in. However, I am willing to put up with 
it. Your method of massage is in every way delightful.” 

“If you do not like it to be cheap. Jack, it cost a good deal. 
It cost the price of bread and butter and nuts and mayonnaise 
dressing; it cost a large expense of ingenuity in their man- 
ufacture without the knowledge of your friend, my mother; 


JACK AND LUCILE VISIT THE PARK 199 

and it will cost the price of a music lesson. Mother little 
guessed the contents of this innocent looking roll.” 

Jack, who had begun to eat a sandwich said, “I can testify 
that it contains a most harmonious composition.” 

**The sandwiches do taste good I venture to assert, even 
if I did make them.” 

“I like the sandwiches, but I love the maker. I shall 
sometime enjoy telling this to your mother.” 

“Now, Jack, you are not to talk of love, or home, or moth- 
er today.” 

“Not talk of love, or home, or mother, what shall I talk 
of, heaven?” 

“Oh, Jack, this is heaven.” 

“So it is. ‘A jug of wine, a loaf of bread and Thou.’ ” 

From beneath the sandwiches, Lucile produced a cold bot- 
tle of tea saying, “Here is the wine.” 

“And thou.” 

“But how are we going to drink it Jack?” 

“I supposed you were going to conjure a sugar bowl and 
cream pitcher, and a tray, and tea-cups from that mysterious 
roll.” Putting his hand in his pocket and bringing forth a 
folding-cup, he opened it out and presenting it to her said, 
“Behold my magic, you use the cup while you eat and I 
shall use it later.” 

“No we shall not do it that way, I shall drink from the 
cup and you drink from the bottle.” 

“How about your second cup?” 

“Oh, never mind that, it is only you.” 

“I am so happy, I hardly know whether it is I or not.” 

Jack and Lucile spent several happy hours together, and 
walked leisurely to the railway station. 

Jack saw Lucile safe on her home-bound train, and with a 
smile that was a caress bade her good-bye, returning to the 
waiting room for a half hour, until his train was ready. 


CHAPTER XX 


Lucile Twice Dismisses Jack 


"Ah me, for aught that ever I could read. 


Could ever hear by tale or history. 

The course of true love never did run smooth** 


— Midsummer Night’s Dream. 


OWARDS the end of September, Dr. Hammond’s 



duties again brought him near the college town, and 


he, as usual, took advantage of this circumstance to 
visit his old friend. Dr. Haines. It was on a Saturday and 
Dr. Haines college and Lehigh University were to meet that 
day on the foot-ball field. Dr Haines asked his guest to go 
with him to the game. As they entered the grounds the 
president suggested to Dr. Hammond that, as the sun was 
just warm enough to be grateful, they find seats in the 
bleachers. The visitor readily agreed to this. After they 
were comfortably seated Jack and Bob entered the field, and 
without noticing the elder men, took seats immediately in 
front of them. Directly Brown drifted in and took a seat 
beside Jack. He told how he had just had a conversation 
with the Secretary of the Young Men’s Christian Associa- 
tion of his home town, and added, “Jack, good people are 
always uninteresting.” The men behind instinctively pricked 
up their ears for Jack’s reply. 

Jack said, “That is another one of your damned fool epi- 
grams. The most interesting people I know are the best 
people I know, in fact about the only interesting people I 
know are good people. For instance Dr. Haines is a much 


200 


LUCILE TWICE DISMISSES JACK 201 

more interesting man than Bill Sykes. Your epigrams are 
never new and seldom true.” 

Brown said, “I don’t like your conversation. I see some 
young ladies across the field that I think I know.” 

“Thank the Lord, I didn’t think you knew anything.” 

“I think I shall go and talk to them awhile.” 

As Brown rose and left. Jack responded, “I speed the part- 
ing guest.” 

Bob exclaimed, “Exit, Brown, the philosopher — You 
certainly took the wind out of his sails. Jack.” 

“He is to me an irresistible temptation to attack. I 
wouldn’t do it, if he didn’t pose as just a little better than 
the rest of us, because his father is rich and if he did not 
assume the blase. He can hardly be surfeited, since he has 
never yet been filled with the knowledge of the world.” 

Bob laughed. “As you once remarked. Brown is just an 
ordinary damned fool.” 

“Yes, I think that covers his case, and yet I am afraid I 
am just a little more venomous, because I envy the cut of 
his coat and the make of his shoes.” 

“He sure is a good dresser.” 

“To be honest, he is rather a good looking fellow. What 
he needs is a good licking by some fellow like Buller.” 

Bob said good naturedly, “I should be willing to undertake 
the job myself if I were able to invent anything insolent 
enough to get him fighting mad.” 

“It can’t be done Robert, it can not be done.” 

“By the way. Jack, did you find yourself very greatly ben- 
efited by your encounter with Buller?” 

“Well, I guess it helped some.” 

“It did him a lot of good. Jack. I have almost gotten to 
like Buller since the fray.” 

“Yes, Buller is not half bad — There comes the team. I 


^02 


different 


suppose it is up to us to take the ignoble part of the scrub, 
and sit on the seat of the scorned.” 

The two boys left for the shed. 

After the game was over, with a victory for the home 
team. Dr. Haines and his guest walked leisurely back to the 
President’s house. 

The President said, “I see you are again shocked by Jack 
Venator.” 

“He seems to be a very flippant and reckless young per- 
son.” 

“Well, yes, may be so, but he is to me the most stimulating 
young fellow that I have ever known. He always keeps 
saying just the things that I keep thinking, but would not 
dare to say.” 

“I confess I have sometimes had a feeling like that myself. 
I confess to a good deal of sympathy with his answer to the 
student they call Brown, when that young man made his 
contemptuous comment on good people.” 

“Yes, he is, in every particular, right, except in his esti- 
mate of the goodness of his college president, but never mind 
that, the thing that you need to learn is that Jack is a very 
unusual young fellow, of unusually upright character.” 

“Why should it be any advantage to me to know that?” 

“It is always worth while to judge any man fairly.” 

“Well, I think there is much that is good about the young 
fellow, but he makes me nervous and my wife cannot abide 
him.” 

“We ask no confidences, but I begin to suspect why she 
dislikes him so cordially. I wonder if it is because she does 
not think him a suitable young man for a son-in-law.” 

“Yes, that is just it. He says that he is going to marry 
my daughter.” 

“I see and you feel sure that he will, since he says, so ; 


LUCILE TWICE DISMISSES JACK 203 


and Mrs. Hammond will not let you forget it, and that is 
what makes you nervous. Think it over a bit and tell me 
if this is not true: when you are not thinking of his inten- 
tions in regard to your daughter, you find Jack just about 
the most comfortable and entertaining young man that you 
know.” 

“I always find myself listening to him, and I am not sure 
but when he leaves I feel a sort of sense of loss. Yes, what 
you say is very nearly correct. I am afraid my objections 
to him are not very sincere. I am afraid that under the 
influence of my wife I have just formed a sort of habit of 
objecting to this young man.” 

“Well you keep out, old man. Let the young woman de- 
cide it for herself. Jack is absolutely honest and transpar- 
ently truthful, and he is too high minded to persist in his 
suit if your daughter does not love him. You keep out.” 

“Now that is just what I should like to do, but my wife 
keeps shoving me in.” 

Dr. Haines laughed. “Well, you just keep climbing right 
out as fast as you are pushed in.” 

“Upon reflection, that is just about what I have been do- 
ing, but I find it a rather exhausting kind of exercise.” 

“I have no doubt that it is tiresome, but I fear that you 
will have to continue your athletics for the sake of your 
daughter. Give Lucile a fair chance to decide this matter 
for herself.” 

“She will not have a fair chance to decide for herself, but 
I can at least hamper her as little as possible myself — She 
is a good girl.” 

“Do you know, strange as it may seem to you. Jack would 
never fall in love with her, if she were not a good girl.” 

“You seem to be a partisan of Jack.” 

“He seenls to need one.” 


204 


DIFFERENT 


“I am afraid he has more than one. Bob and his sister, 
I suspect, help the thing along. I am afraid if I do not look 
out I shall develop into a partisan myself.” 

Dr. Haines burst forth in a roar of laughter and said, 
“Hammond, your saving sense of humor, which on rare occa- 
sions manifests itself, and your undisguised honesty is what 
made me love you in college, and has made me love you ever 
since.” 

Dr. Hammond smiled and said, “Well, Haines, I am glad 
that we have had this talk. It is a relief ; it is a distinct re- 
lief.” 

Just at this point another member of the faculty joined 
them, and Jack dropped out of the conversation. 

Telepathically this seems to have been Jack’s day. While 
Doctors Hammond and Haines, were discussing this irre- 
pressible youth in the college town he was also, at the very 
same time, the subject of a conversation carried on at Wel- 
lesley. 

Lucile had received a letter from Jack soon after his 
return to college. The two girls were today discussing the 
advisability of answering it. 

Lucile said, “You see, Bessie, I do not intend ever to 
marry Jack. I just can’t. Mother will never give her con- 
sent, and father would much rather I wouldn’t. I suppose 
you can not conceive how anybody is lovable as mother can 
be as unreasonable as she.” 

“I do not believe that she is as unyielding as you think 
she is — I think she is a bluffer.” 

Lucile smiled. “You have a delicate way of commenting 
on my mother. However, I wish I could believe that she 
is a bluffer. The thing that troubles me, I confess, is not 
that you have called her a bluffer — but that she isn’t.” 

“I suppose you are leading up to an announcement that 


LUCILE TWICE DISMISSES JACK 205 


you will not answer Jack’s letter.” 

Lucile laughed and retorted, “Your intuition is only sur- 
passed by your impudence.” 

Both laughed, then Lucile bursting suddenly into tears 
said, “You see Bessie I must not do it. It is not fair to 
Jack. I must do the right thing by Jack.” 

“Yes, if you are sure that you do not ever intend to marry 
Jack, it is sure unfair.” 

“That is just it, I must not be unfair to Jack.” 

“Well, if you can tolerate the idea that you are resolved 
never to marry Jack, write to him to that effect.” 

“I think that is best.” 

“The best thing you can do, is to try it.” 

Lucile looked a little disappointed, but said, “Oh, do you 
think so Bessie?” 

Bessie replied, “You will never know how little use it 
is, until you try it out.” 

Lucile brightened. “You think it will not be any use?” 

“Oh, I know how you feel Lucile, I understand all right. 
I am sure that under the same circumstances I should do 
just the same fool thing.” 

“Bessie, you are such a comfort, I shall now write a very 
short letter to Jack.” 

A few days after, her lover received the following letter: 


“Dear Jack: — It is all over. I write to break our so- 
called engagement. It cannot be. I do not wish to marry 
you Jack. Send me all my letters. 

With love, 


L. 


P. S. — No, I will not write any post-script.” 

When Jack read this letter, he, for the second time was 
angry with Lucile. 


2o6 


DIFFERENT 


Bob said, “What should this mean? What sudden an- 
ger’s this?” 

Jack did not reply, but handed Bob the letter. Bob read 
it and whistled. 

Jack quoted, with great earnestness, “And fire-eyed fury 
be my conduct now.” And unlocking his desk began to make 
up Lucile’s letters into a neat package. 

Bob commented, “Yes, I think I should try out the fire- 
eyed fury act. It is just as good as any, under the circum- 
stances.” 

“This is not acting, don’t push me too far just now. Bob,” 
and Jack, unable, notwithstanding his anger, to resist another 
literary allusion added: 

“Though I am not splenitive and rash. Yet I have some- 
thing in me dangerous.” 

Bob replied, “Oh, rats!” 

Jack smiled wanly and said, “Thank you, Bob.” 

Bob said, “I know you are not acting. Jack, I think you 
are fully justified, but all the same the line of action you seem 
inclined to follow, will bring results if anything will. — 
What are you going to write, when you return the letter?” 

Jack ground his teeth and said, “Nothing.” 

He proceeded grimly with his task. He addressed the 
package of Lucile’s letters to Box 77, and proceeded straight- 
way to mail it. 

On the way from the Post Office, Bob handed him a Pitts- 
burgh stogie, and both smoked in silence. Lucile returned a 
package of Jack’s letters, by return mail, which her lover 
promptly threw into the grate of burning coals with which 
their room was heated. 

Bob commented, “Why this unseemly haste?” 

Jack replied. 


LUCILE TWICE DISMISSES JACK 207 

“ ‘If it were done, when ’tis done, then ’twere well. 

It were quickly done.’ ” 

“That sounds well. Jack, but I am not convinced.” 

“I guess you are right old man, there may be a note in that 
package,” and Jack rescued it in time to discover that it con- 
tained nothing written by Lucile. He then again tossed it 
into the grate. 

Jack, for many days, was silent, savage, and epigramatic. 
Brown and Buller avoided him. 

One day Bob commented on this fact. Jack said, “I 
think I should feel better if Buller would give me another 
good thrashing. Of course I can not just exactly ask him 
to do it.” 

“And,” continued Bob, “he is unwilling to undertake the 
job.” 

“Well, maybe a little, he knows he can do it all right, but 
he does not want to be battered up while he is doing it.” 

“Say Jack, you had better cut out the grizzly bear act, it 
does not become you.” 

“I tell you I am done for Bob, there is no use in trying to 
dodge the fact.” 

“Oh, rats, rats, rats, — great big long tailed grey rats!” 

“That makes me feel better. Bob. You have not said that 
since the day I received Lucile’s letter. If you have a stogie 
I shall sit down and think it out.” Bob furnished the neces- 
sary anodyne and Jack for the next fifteen minutes did some 
hard thinking. At length he looked up more cheerfully and 
said, “Bob, do you remember the words just before Lucile’s 
name in that fatal note?” 

“No, I do not — ^was it ‘yours truly’ or ‘Your obedient ser- 
vant?”’ 

“It was, 'with love/ '' 

“Oh, cracky, yes, I see, there is some comfort in that, 


208 


DIFFERENT 


old man.” 

“Lots of comfort; on reflection, that is the whole thing. 
If she loves me, I will just wait. 

‘All things come round to him who will but wait.’ ” 

“All right old man, but don’t make yourself a nuisance 
while you wait.” 

“Bob, do you remember that P. S. in Lucile’s supposedly 
final note?” 

“There was not much of anything in it, if I remember 
correctly.” 

“That is just it, there was something she wished to say, 
but didn’t.” 

“Sure enough, Bessie would have seen that at once.” 

“Yes Bessie would have read more into that postscript than 
the meager body of the letter contained.” 

“Bessie would know exactly what it meant, but she would 
never tell.” 

“No, Bob, she would never tell. Well, anyway, it is 
Lucile’s move. I feel sure the game is not played out yet.” 

“No, but Lucile will be in no hurry moving into the next 
square.” 

“I shall wait.” 

“You said before, ‘I will wait.’ ” 

“Well, I will wait.” 

October, November, December and January passed and 
Jack still waited — at times a little impatiently but on the 
whole cheerfully. 

Early in February he received the following note from 
Lucile : 

“Dear Jack : — I find it my duty to write and tell you that 
I do not love you. This is the final reason for breaking our 
engagement. I do not think that you should marry any one 


LUCILE TWICE DISMISSES JACK 


209 


who does not love you — I think nearly everybody does love 
you. I do not love you and I do not think anybody loves me. 

YourSj 

L. 

P. S.” 

Jack read Lucile’s communication and handed it to Bob 
without comment. Bob read it and said, “It gets worse and 
worse.” 

Jack replied, “This note somehow does not make me feel 
as much like I had been run over by a steam roller as the 
first letter of dismissal. There are several things from 
which I derive a little comfort. One is the fact that she 
wrote a second communication; another is that she concludes 
her letter with ‘yours.’ This may be accounted for as an ac- 
cident, resulting from force of habit. It may be that she be- 
gan to write the usual ‘yours truly’ and declined to add the 
‘truly.’ This theory, of course, looks bad for me but the 
fact that she underscores ‘yours’ makes it hardly tenable. 
Further, I get some comfort, as usual, from what Lucile does 
not say. She adds P. S., and then writes no postscript. 
There is no telling what she wanted to say, and didn’t say.” 

“Yes, there is something in all that, particularly your first 
point, the fact that she wrote at all. She is getting just a 
little lonesome because she has not heard from you. The 
thing for you to do just now, old man, is to do nothing.” 

“May be you are right, but that is a hard thing to do. She 
can get along without seeing me enough sight better than I 
can without seeing her. However, although it probably 
afflicts me more than it does her, that seems to be about the 
only thing to try out.’*' 

“Believe your Uncle Bobbie, that is the thing.” 

The following day Bob received a letter from Bessie in 


210 


DIFFERENT 


which she told of a gifted and handsome young man of Lu- 
cile’s denomination of Christians, who was taking her to 
concerts and paying her other marked attentions. Comment- 
ing on this news, Jack said gloomily: 

“Well, that settles it. That is perhaps the explanation of 
the second letter. If he is handsome and clever, and belongs 
to that denomination, my goose is cooked to a very fine 
turn.” 

“Oh, rats!” 

“For the first time your rodents do not seem to have the 
normal cheerful effect,” Jack replied in an effort to be flip- 
pant and thus cover up his emotion. 

Bob commented with, “Where is your fighting blood, 
Jack? You have been fretting all along because there is 
nobody connected with this affair that you can fight. You 
cannot fight Mrs. Hammond; you do not wish to fight the 
pater — he is coming over to your side ; and there is no way in 
which you can fight Lucile that you will not get licked, ex- 
cept this waiting game. I would still keep trying that out 
on her. Here is a man whom you can fight — this gifted and 
handsome new suitor of Lucile.” 

“Yes, I should like to fight him, or anything else in my 
way, related to this unpromising affair, but I cannot decently 
butt in; and I cannot butt in at all, while I play the wait- 
ing game.” 

“Well, you wait.” 

“And in the meantime, give my rival every chance.” 

“Yes, give him every chance. I am not afraid of him. If 
she had not already come under the spell of your peculiari- 
ties, there might be some danger, but there is just as much 
danger of Dr. Haines placing Buffer in your place in his 
regard, as there is of Lucile placing this fellow in your 
place. Besides, it will be all the greater triumph if you bowl 


LUCILE TWICE DISMISSES JACK 21 1 


this interloper out after he has had plenty of time to estab- 
lish himself.” 

“Bob at times you talk well. You are a great comfort. 
You flatter my egotism until it revives my courage. I can- 
not think of anything better than your fool plan. I shall 
continue to wait.” 


CHAPTER XXI 


Jack is Reinstated 

*'She"s beautiful and therefore to be wooed; 

She is a woman and therefore to be won'* 

— Henry VI. 

W HEN on his way home, Easter vacation, Jack left 
the train at Lucile’s home city and walked down 
the street leading from the station, his attention 
was attracted to a young woman a few paces ahead of him, 
pursuing her way at an unusually slow gait. A second glance 
and he recognized her as Lucile. As soon as he saw her trim 
figure and well poised head, his resolution to wait vanished, 
and with a quick, glad step, he overtook her. She looked 
saucily up with one of her inscrutable smiles and said, “Oh, 
Jack, I am so glad.” 

“Why?” 

“Aren’t you glad?” 

“Am I not? — I am in an ecstacy of delight, but that 
needs no explanation. I have never professed to be anything 
else than hopelessly in love with you, Lucile, but why should 
you be glad to see me?” 

“Oh, of course, our engagement is broken, but I just want- 
ed to see you. Jack.” 

“Is the park still open to visitors?” 

“Do you see this music roll?” 

“Yes, I am glad to see it — It is an old friend.” 

“Well, it contains sandwiches.” 

“My brain reels as the plot thickens. I shall not attempt 
212 


JACK IS REINSTATED 


213 


to understand until wc reach the park.” 

“No, please don’t.” 

“I think I may, however, venture to carry the magic roll.” 

“No, if we should meet anyone we know, it looks much 
less like an excursion, if I retain the roll.” 

“I see, a casual meeting, in which I walk with you for a 
minute only.” 

“The quickness of your understanding does not seem to be 
blunted.” 

“Why should it?” 

With a characteristic look of mingled shyness and mis- 
chief, Lucile glanced at Jack as she said, “I thought maybe 
you had worried some.” 

“I have.” 

“Well, let us not talk about it until we reach the park.” 
They sat together as they rode for a few minutes, on a 
street car, on their way to their proposed rendezvous, each 
so well satisfied with the situation that they found conversa- 
tion unnecessary. 

When they were comfortably seated on the bench, which 
they had occupied once before. Jack said, “Now, please tell 
me about the wonderful coincidence of my meeting you as I 
left the station, and the still more wonderful coincidence of 
the sandwiches and the music roll.” 

Lucile laughed merrily. “I suppose there is no use in my 
trying to mislead you ; and I do not wish to deceive you. I 
studied up your catalogue and calculated when you would 
pass through this city on your return for your Easter vaca- 
tion. I decided that you would either arrive yesterday even- 
ing or this morning. I ate dinner yesterday evening with a 
friend in the city and planned my return so that I was in 
the Union Station when the train on which you might have 
returned came in. You of course did not come. This morn- 


214 


DIFFERENT 


ing, as you see, I am ofi for my music lesson. At the station 
I saw you come through the gate, and hastened away, but, as 
you observed, did not hasten after I reached the street. I am 
glad you did not come last night. I could not have managed 
the sandwiches then.” 

“Lucile you are a jewel.” 

“I fear that I am a very wicked girl. My conscience hurts 
me awfully, but. Jack, I just had to see you once more.” 

“I predict that you will see me many times more, unless 
the handsome young man of your own denomination, of 
whom your mother doubtless approves, has knocked my nose 
out of joint.” 

“Oh, yes, Billie Houston. Well, yes, he is handsome, and 
yes, mother does approve of him ; and he is awfully nice and 
anybody ought to like him, but, oh, Jack, I rejected him last 
night, after my vain search for you.” 

“Bully for you. Again the stars do shine. I have been 
in a dreadful state of suspense ever since I heard of the hand- 
some young man who takes you to concerts.” 

“Took.” 

“Sure enough — took you to concerts. He will probably 
no more squander his money on concert tickets for you.” 

“Never more!” 

“He has my sympathy. I feel very kindly towards him 
now. I wanted to beat him up when I first heard that he 
was a suitor of the only girl I shall ever love.” 

Lucile smiled up through momentary tears and said, “Oh, 
Jack, I fear I just sat and thought about you all through those 
concerts.” Then with a laugh, “I suppose Bessie had an ob- 
ject in dispensing news about Billie Houston.” 

“Oh, my prophetic soul, to make me jealous.” 

“To make you come to me.” 

“If you were a man, Lucile, you would see that I could 


JACK IS REINSTATED 


215 


not do that. I had had my chance and been turned down. It 
would have been indecent to butt in.” 

“I did not mean to, Jack, but it looks a good deal like you 
had been turned up now.” 

“Thank the Lord. — I say it reverently, Lucile.” 

“I said it looked like it. Jack. You can not always tell 
what a girl means by what it looks like.” 

“No, I can not, but don’t rub it in.” 

“You see. Jack, dear, we can now resume our estrange- 
ment ; and I can do without seeing you for a long time.” 

“Oh, rats!” 

“It does seem like that.” 

“Lucile, you might just as well give it up. I know now, 
in my sub-conscious self, I never for a moment gave up my 
intention to marry you.” 

“It is an awful fate to look forward to.” 

“Oh, end your sentence with a preposition, if you wish to. 
(It is all right), but don’t be silly.” 

“Do you know. Jack, I sometimes just love to be silly.” 

“You may love to be silly, but you cannot fail to be lovely. 
However, I decline to be jolted out of my line of thought; 
we might just as well keep on being engaged until the cata- 
clysm comes.” 

“Well, let’s.” 

“Lucile, you are a dear.” 

“You must send your letters back. — Here are mine.” 

From the inside of an umbrella, that she insisted upon keep- 
ing in her possession, she extracted a bundle of letters and 
handed them to Jack. 

Jack was somewhat astonished and said, “Lucile, you seem 
to have had a pretty good idea of how this interview was 
going to come out.” 

She answered calmly, “Yes, I knew.” 


2i6 


DIFFERENT 


“Oh, I see you would never have entered upon this enter- 
prise, if you had not been sure of results.” 

“Oh, I don’t know, but I was sure all the same.” 

“Lucile, you may always, hereafter, be sure that if any- 
where, any time you get me within range of that bewitching 
and mesmeric smile, I am yours for keeps.” 

Lucile rewarded Jack with a pleased laugh and again in- 
sisted that he return his letters promptly. 

“I threw them into the fire.” 

“Oh, Jack, there might have been a note from me in the 
package.” 

“I burned my fingers getting it out of the fire to see. 
There wasn’t. I threw the letters back into the grate.” 

“Are you sure they were all there?” 

“I see, bless your dear heart, you thought enough of me to 
preserve a few.” 

“Now I did not say that at all Jack. That would not 
have been quite fair.” 

“Oh, I love you all the more for forgetting to put a few of 
them in the bundle fated to incineration.” 

“Well Jack, I did keep out a few of the most fiery and 
epigrammatic, and characteristic, and altogether lovely. You 
see I just had to retain something of you.” 

“No, I don’t see, but I am glad to believe.” 

“Let us talk about something else now,” and Lucile wan- 
dered off into a discussion of the “lovely” qualities of Bessie 
and Bob, which she followed with a description of her school 
life. 

Jack interjected an epigram occasionally, and listened in- 
dulgently to prattle that he knew, and she knew that he 
knew, was intended to keep him from making love. 

The hours passed all too quickly for these happy lovers. 

Lucile said, ''Quelle heure est-il?" 


JACK IS REINSTATED 


217 


Jack, looking at his watch answered, “My Ingersol says 
two o’clock. My train leaves at two thirty-five.” 

“My train leaves at two forty.” 

“Alas, that means that our picnic ends right now.” 

“It is ’alas’ for me Jack, for this is probably our last meet- 
ing.” 

“Again I say, *rats!’ ” 

Lucile laughed and answered, “Yes, I am afraid so.” 

They reached the Union Station without incident, and as 
both trains were ready they passed through different gates 
and met on the platform of Jack’s train. As his train began 
to move and he swung aboard, she said shyly, with a mis- 
chievous twinkle in her soft brown eyes: “Jack you ought 
to rewrite all those letters you burned up. I still pay rent 
for box 77.” 

As the train was moving. Jack compelled to reply in a 
louder voice, said, “I shall not forget the cryptic numbers.” 

Lucile, although happy, was aware of a kind of subcon- 
scious worry, occasioned by the fact that she was not quite 
satisfied that her delightful outing was wholly justified. 
While, by habit, a dutiful daughter, both her parents 
were a little puzzled by her unusual docility on her re- 
turn from her music lesson. 

Her mother naturally suspicious, began to question her 
about her day in the city ,and was pressing her in a most 
aggravating manner for details. 

Lucile burst forth with, “Mother, I was in the Union 
Station and on Main Street and in the street car and in 
the Park and further deponent sayeth not.” 

As Lucile’s music teacher lived near the Park and she, as 
her mother knew, usually walked across the Park to reach his 
house, the mention of the Park did not arouse her suspicion. 
She, however, pressed the matter further by asking her daugh- 


2i8 


DIFFERENT 


ter if she were at the house of her music teacher. Lucile, 
however, had anticipated this question, and had run over to 
Professor Gibbon’s house and left a new piece of music, while 
Jack smoked a stogie, after the sandwiches. She answered, 
“Yes, Mother, I was at Prof. Gibbon’s house. Why don’t 
you ask me if I am still in Whitestown?” 

Her mother smiled somewhat grimly, but fortunately did 
not press the matter further. 


CHAPTER XXII 


Dr. Hammond Dies 

^'Silence in love bewrays more woe 
Than words, though ne'er so witty." 

— Raleigh. 

*'And silence like a poultice comes 
To heal the blows of sound." 

— O. W. Holmes. 


A fter the Easter vacation Jack returned to college 
in a most amiable mood. He with difficulty became 
irritated even with Brown. Bob declared that he 
was “too good to be true.” 

Jack replied good naturedly, “Oh, Bob, don’t disturb me. 
I am in a kind of fool’s paradise from which, some of these 
days, I shall be rudely cast out.” 

Bob replied, “ ‘Oh, noble fool. 

A worthy fool.’ ” 

Jack answered, “Perhaps you think you’re not a fool: 

‘Just as a block head rubs his thoughtless skull 
And thanks his stars he was not born a fool.’ 
However, old man, I take back the ‘block head.’ You 
may be a good many different kinds of fool. But perish the 
man who calls you a blockhead !” 

“Thanks awfully, you mean that I am like you — only a 
fool.” 

“Yes, I meant delicately to imply that. I am afraid every 
man who is in love, is more or less of a fool.” 

“Oh, no, I don’t agree to that.” 

219 


220 


DIFFERENT 


“Well, may be not, I guess it is just the other way 
around. Every man who is not in love is a fool.” 

“In your present amorous complacency it seems rather 
hard to get up an argument.” 

“ ‘Amorous complacency’ is good. It is a synonym for 
fool’s paradise.” 

Just at this point a boy appeared with a telegram for Jack. 
He studied the envelope for a minute before opening it, and 
said, “It is from Whitestown. I hope ‘All’s right with the 
world’ thereabouts.” 

He opened the yellow wrapper, and hurriedly reading the 
telegram said sadly, “Lucile’s father is dead.” 

Bob, taking the message read, “Father is dead, come for 
just a few minutes, Lucile.” And commented, “I am sorry, 
too, old man. He was a fine character and he was fast be- 
coming your friend.” 

“Yes, but I grieve for him, not because he might ultimately 
have made it easier for me, but because the world has sus- 
tained a real loss. To parody the epigram of a savage 
philosopher, ‘The average of mankind is perceptibly lowered 
by his death.’ ” 

“Well, Jack, I suppose he knows you now as you are.” 

“Yes, he knows me now as I am, but with all the mis- 
judgments of mankind, I fear that I should come off better 
to be judged as I appear to be.” 

“May be so. Jack, I guess we are all just about that way.” 

“Bob this will be dreadfully hard on Lucile. He not only 
loved her, but understood her. I suppose her mother loves 
her (nobody could help it) but she shuts up both eyes, when 
she does not want to see.” 

“Of course, you are going to her. Jack.” 

“Yes, to-night, but not to talk.” 

“I understand.” 


DR. HAMMOND DIES 


221 


“Yes, bless you old man, you always understand.*’ 

Jack immediately dressed and started for the train. 

On his way to the station he met Brown, who stopped him 
and said, “I have got an argument against miracles now, 
that you can’t answer.” 

Jack replied, “Don’t bother me, you gump. I do not wish 
to talk,” and with a vigorous movement of his arm, he swept 
him aside and proceeded on his way — much to Brown’s as- 
tonishment, for Jack was almost always ready to engage in 
argumentation. 

As Jack approached the threshold of the Hammond resi- 
dence the door softly opened, and Lucile stood before him, 
shy, modest, lovely and in tears. A wan smile shone through 
her tears as Jack clasped her hand, and she said, “Come and 
see him, dear.” 

She led the way into a large front room where the popular 
pastor of the village church lay in state in his casket. Jack, 
with feet spread apart and hands behind his back, looked at 
him long and affectionately, but remained silent. Lucile 
softly whispered, “It was his heart.” 

Then her lover spoke, “The world is poorer for his death, 
Lucile.” 

They then moved softly to the door. Jack stooped and 
kissed her gently on the forehead, and was gone. A week 
later he received a letter thanking him for his visit. He read 
it carefully and, as usual, handed it to his room-mate, and 
asked him to read it aloud. Bob read as follows: 

“Dear Jack: — I am so glad you came. You are such a 
comfort. Oh, Jack when I contrast your visit with that of 
our garrulous, but well-meaning neighbors, I cannot but see 
how much stronger and finer you are. It may be wrong, but 
I am thankful for you Jack. I do not think Daddy would 


222 


DIFFERENT 


mind. Mother seems more bitterly set against you since you 
were here than ever before. I think the very fact that she 
feels instinctively that Daddy would have approved of it, 
makes her impatient with you. 

I would not dare to tell you what she said about you, but 
oh. Jack, I fear I never can get along without you. 

Your sorrowing, 

Lucile.” 

Jack^s room-mate, as he finished reading Lucile’s letter, 
was surprised to see his friend shed a few tears. It was 
characteristic of Bob that he made no comment, but shed 
tears himself in sympathy. 

Jack and Bob now busied themselves in preparation for 
final examinations and graduation. Both young men how- 
ever, peculated sufficient time to write to their friends in 
Wellesley. One of Jack’s characteristic letters follows: 

“Dear Lucile: — Bob and I, from this time to the end, 
paradoxically called Commencement, will be engaged in gath- 
ering up the tag ends of an education, which we have some- 
what incidentally acquired during our residence in this dear 
distracting town. 

By some happy chance we have both been assigned ora- 
tions on Commencement Day. We both feel that the world 
has long been waiting for our deliverances on that glad 
day. 

I am about to take a big chance, by breaking away from 
the seemingly erudite, pseudo-classical, dry as-dust speeches 
of the college orators, who have preceded me, and make a 
try for something that people will listen to — observe the 
preposition. I realize that I am taking an awful risk, but as 
usual rather enjoy the sensation. 


DR. HAMMOND DIES 


223 


I have submitted my speech to Dr. Haines and although 
seemingly a little apprehensive, he is willing to have me try 
it out. 

I hope that you will be there to hear it. If you like it, I 
shall not much care what the unimportant rest of the audi- 
ence think of it. 

I am also to afflict the Class Day audience by some 
rhyme — The doggerel is yet to be written. I am trying to 
think up some fitting rhymes, such as crony and pony and 
flunk and punk and flam and damn and others suitably de- 
scriptive of my distinguished classmates. 

As I wish to get some more Greek and a little Hebrew, I 
have decided to go to a theological seminary for a year. I 
shall then probably take up teaching, as I have a dreadful 
suspicion that I can do that better than anything else. I 
know it is not dazzlingly remunerative; but I hope to get 
an opportunity to make a little money ‘on the side’ and 
thereby better my fortune. 

Of course I expect to earn enough money from the start 
to keep one wife. You had better, from this time on, begin 
gently but firmly to accustom your mother to the idea of 
some time becoming my mother-in-law. 

One advantage of her antipathy to me is that she will 
probably not wish to live with us — Beg pardon if this does 
not seem altogether cordial. I mean that it is she and not I 
that would interfere with any such arrangement, and that I 
should be able to bear up under the rebuff with considerable 
fortitude. 

The reason I do not refer to the loss of your father in my 
letters is because I think, and I think you think that it is too 
sacred a subject to write about. 

Bob is well and sends you as warm r^ards as I will per- 
mit him to express. 


224 


DIFFERENT 


I have endeavored as far as possible, 
love letter. 

Your lover, 


not to make this a 


Jack.” 


To this letter. Jack, in about a week, received the follow- 
ing reply: 


“Dear Jack: — ^Your letter which so bravely eschewed all 
tender sentiment, until the description of yourself just before 
your signature, reached Wellesley safe — or ought I to say 
safely? I think I shall adhere to safe. 

I am somewhat surprised, but delighted at your decision 
to go to a theological seminary. 

I think professorial work is great — I resist the impulse to 
say lovely. I should be proud to be a professor’s wife, but as 
I can never marry you Jack, I suppose I will have to forego 
that pleasure. 

Seriously Jack, I think we might just as well abandon all 
hope. Mother becomes more firmly set against you every 
day. Just yesterday I discovered that she had pushed a nail 
through the eye of one of your handsomest pictures. Your 
case becomes more desperate as time passes. 

Bessie is as pretty and as dear and as loyal as ever and 
sends her love. 

I am glad you have the good taste not to write about my 
great sorrow — You always do the right thing Jack. Would 
that I could get Mother to see that. 

Yours, 

L.” 

P. S. — There is a lovely theological seminary in the region 
of Box No. 77.” 

When Jack read this letter to his room-mate. Bob said. 


DR. HAMMOND DIES 


225 


“I see which theological seminary you are going to orna- 
ment.” 

“Yes, I should not dare to disregard any advice of Lucile 
in theological matters.” 

“I see.” 

“Yes, I think I shall take my medicine in election and 
predestination at the Theological Seminary near Lucile’s 
home town.” 


CHAPTER XXIII 


Lucile and Bessie Attend the Commencement 

Womans at best a contradiction still/" — PoPE. 

B ESSIE’S importunity secured permission for Lucile to 
accompany her to Bob’s commencement. 

The two Wellesley girls were guests of mutual 
friends, the Lawrences, who lived in the college town. Jack 
and Bob, of course, called promptly; and shortly after their 
arrival, Billie Houston appeared. 

Jack, when introduced, greeted him somewhat grimly, but 
half humorously. 

The home college boys had called with the expectation of 
escorting Lucile and Bessie to the Field Day Meet. When 
they were about to set out for the athletic grounds, Lucile 
handed her fan to Billie Houston, thus cutting off Jack’s 
attempt to reach her side in time to accompany her to the 
sports. Jack, a third time felt downright angry with Lucile. 
One end of the veranda on which they had been sitting was 
about four feet above the sloping lawn, and at the corner 
stood a tall, widespreading rose bush. A passing omnibus, 
for a moment, attracted everybody’s attention; and Jack 
dropped quietly over the end of the porch and crouched be- 
hind the rose bush. Before they reached the street. Jack’s 
absence was noticed. 

Bessie said, “What in the world has become of Jack? Our 
merry-making will be like the play of Hamlet with Hamlet 
left out, if Jack is not with us.” 

Bob replied, “Your figure is a bit of a chestnut, Bessie, but 

226 


ATTEND COMMENCEMENT 


227 


it covers the situation exactly”; then all at once, divining 
Jack’s reason, which he perfectly understood he added, “Oh, 
I suppose Jack has gone into the house to deliver some mes- 
sage to Mrs. Lawrence from Dr. Haines. You know the 
Haines and the Lawrences are great friends.” He then tried 
to make a diversion by criticising Bessie’s costume, which 
brought down upon his head, as he intended and expected, a 
wordy lecture on the universal ignorance of men in regard to 
women’s clothes. 

In the meantime Jack slipped back to his room and worked 
furiously jjII afternoon completing the class poem, which 
he would read the following day. 

Lucile was greatly surprised by Jack’s disappearance. It 
would be hard to account for Lucile’s sudden disposal of her 
fan. She felt sorry for Billie; she somehow felt that her 
conscience would feel better if she did not see too much of 
Jack, since her mother had commanded her not to see any- 
thing of him ; she was somehow a little piqued at Jack’s man- 
ifest amusement, when he was introduced to Billie. She w^as 
sorry for what she had done, when she saw the broad smile 
on Billie’s face, as he took possession of the fan. He was evi- 
dently pleased with Lucile’s summary way of disposing of a 
supposedly presumptuous suitor. He had detected Jack’s in- 
tention to join Lucile as they prepared to leave the house. 
He did not know Jack. 

When she took possession of Billie Houston, Lucile ex- 
pected Jack to attend Bessie. It never occurred to her that 
he would not join the company; and she was indignant at the 
outcome. 

When they reached the field she declined to carry on any 
lengthy conversation with Billie, but devoted herself to Bob. 
Billie was entirely unable to fathom her motives ; but Bessie 
did not give him much time to brood over the matter. She 


228 


DIFFERENT 


at once understood that it was her duty to save the situation. 
Billie was somewhat astonished, but seemed pleased with Bes- 
sie’s sudden interest in him. He however, could not get over 
the impression that the fan episode meant that Lucile was 
willing to consider a reconciliation. The inference was nat- 
ural and a man with more experience might easily have made 
the same mistake. Billie was not deficient in mentality but 
always found himself unable to understand the puzzling op- 
posite sex. 

Towards the end of the afternoon an opportunity for a 
short talk with Lucile came, and he opened up the conversa- 
tion by saying, “That Venator chap seems to think he is 
smart.” 

Lucile replied shortly, “He is.” 

Billie, who was a little inclined to boast said, “Well, I 
should like a chance to measure swords with him.” 

Lucile had known Billie all her life, and had been rather 
proud of the record for scholarship he had made in Yale 
where he had just graduated. She had observed that he at 
times made some very bright remarks, but had also observed 
that they had to be prepared. 

“Do you mean in repartee,” she inquired. 

“Why yes, repartee, if you like.” 

Lucile laughed and said, “Billie, you idiot, your hand 
would stand just as good a chance in contact with a buzz- 
saw, as the whole Billie would, if you should undertake to 
vanquish Jack in repartee.” 

“Well, I do not like him, I should like to lick him.” 

“Now, Billie, take the advice of an old friend and don’t 
try: the last man that thrashed Jack had to stay in his room 
for days.” 

“I was glad to see the masterly way in which you squelched 
this fellow you call Jack, when he was about to make his 


ATTEND COMMENCEMENT 


229 


- ■ 

presumptuous advances.” 

“Now Billie, don’t be too happy over that, it would not 
have been presumptuous.” 

“Why he scarcely knows you.” 

“He hasn’t known me as long as you have, but he knows 
me much better.” 

“Well I am glad anyway to know that you are able, so 
easily, to escape his unwelcome attentions.” 

“Billie, you make many wrong inferences: in the first place 
his attentions would not have been unwelcome, and in the 
second place, it was more easy than I liked.” 

“Do you mean that while his company is not undesirable, 
that mine is more welcome?” 

“No, I do not mean anything like that.” 

“Well I guess Venator must understand you better than I ; 
if he does not, he does not understand you at all.” 

“Why Billie, you are almost witty. If you improve, I may 
give you permission to tackle Jack some time.” 

“I swear Lucile, I cannot make you out. You avoid Vena- 
tor when he is present, and can not talk about any body else, 
when he is not present.” 

“What would you have done, had I given my fan to 
Jack?” 

“Say, really — now, I hardly know, I suppose I should have 
come with Bessie.” 

“Well Jack is different, that is the reason I talk about 
him.” 

“Aren’t you glad I am not like him?” 

“Whom you are like does not concern me. But you do not 
get the idea Billie, I mean that I admire anybody who is 
different from you.” 

His countenance fell, and Lucile’s kind heart reproached 
her. She added, “No, Billie, that is not quite what I mean : 


230 


DIFFERENT 


I mean that Jack is different from every body; and I mean 
that you are never any more to assume that I have more than 
a neighborly interest in you.” 

Lucile looked appealingly at Bessie, who immediately came 
to her rescue, by asking the Yale man if a hurdle-racer were 
required to jump over without touching the bar. 

Billie did not have a very happy time, and was dismissed 
at the door, when they returned to the home of Mr. Law- 
rence. 

Bob, after the games, came breezing in on Jack and cried, 
“By the long horned spoon, he is at work.” 

“Yes, I have finished the doggerel.” 

“Say Jack, how did you do the disappearing act?” 

“I dropped over the end of the porch.” 

“It was good work all right. Jack, I think you were justi- 
fied.” 

“I did not like the disposal of the fan.” 

“Oh, I caught on all right.” 

“I think I shall not pursue Lucile too much during the 
Commencement season. I will give that Yale Billie full 
swing.” 

“Right you are Jack, that is the stuff. Give him plenty of 
rope and he will break his blamed fool neck. Lucile did not 
give him a very happy time this afternoon.” 

“Why do you suppose she turned me down to-day?” 

“Oh, I am not inspired — I am not supposed to know.” 

“Bob, nobody knows but the Lord and Bessie; and I am 
not likely to get much information from either of them.” 

“It is not much use, but you might try Bessie. She is com- 
ing to our rooms in a few minutes, with a tie that she manu- 
factured for me. I suppose I will have to wear the blamed 
thing.” 

When Bessie appeared, she greeted Jack with, “I see you 


ATTEND COMMENCEMENT 


231 


have turned up again, Jack.” 

“You also saw me turned down, Bessie. Have you any 
idea why she did it?” 

“Oh, yes, I can see that it was the natural thing to do.” 

“If that is the natural thing to do, I right here, lose my 
faith in Nature; but tell us why.” 

“The derisive grin with which you greeted Mr. Houston 
was your undoing. Jack. I believe she told you that she had 
rejected him. I should never tell you, if she hadn’t. Like 
any right minded girl, she is sorry for Billie. She thought 
that he needed to be comforted and that you needed to be 
punished. Besides there were a lot of other motives that 
have to do with mother, home, and conscience that no mere 
man could understand.” 

Jack said, “Well, that clears it up a little. I was punished 
all right. Did she comfort the Houston Billie?” 

“No, not as much as she intended to but I shall not at- 
tempt to explain why.” 

“Of course you know.” 

“Oh, yes, I know all right; but I shall not try to tell.” 

“I see, I see — pearls, swine, etc.” 

Bessie laughed and answered, “Not a bad guess. Jack.” 

Jack joined in the laugh. “I ought to be insulted, but I 
have more troubles on my hands now, than I can manage 
successfully. I thank you Bessie. It comforts me to know 
that she had a reason. It always worries me when things are 
done, without any reason at all.” 

“Oh don’t worry, we sometimes have reasons.” 

“Yes, they seem to be as plentiful as blackberries.” 

Bessie here made a diversion by calling on Jack to admire 
the tie, that she had made for Bob. This he was glad he was 
able conscientiously to do. He turned to Bob and said, “Why 
do you not express your admiration for this triumph of Bes- 


232 


DIFFERENT 


sie’s art.” 

Bob replied with a laugh, “Oh, I have to wear it — that’s 
all Bessie can decently expect of me.” 

Their visitor now excused herself and hurried away. 

When she was well out of hearing Jack said, “Bob she is 
a wonder.” 

“She sure understands the sex.” 

“I think, however, I shall adhere to the absent treatment, 
of Lucile. I can be angry more comfortably now, since Bes- 
sie has cleared matters up a bit.” 

“Yes, that’s the proper caper.” 

Although able to remain with her for a very few minutes 
only. Jack accompanied another young woman to the Class 
Day exercises. She was a large, handsome, well dressed 
debutante of a neighboring town. Jack, escorted her up the 
aisle in his grandest manner. 

Lucile, who had already secured a seat, although not at all 
alarmed by the rival attractions of this handsome young 
woman, who appeared so unexpectedly, did not feel alto- 
gether comfortable. She felt happier when Jack took his 
place on the platform. 

When Jack’s good carrying voice began to ring out over 
the audience, she noted with pride, that his was easily the 
most popular performance of the day. As they were leaving 
the building, Lucile and Bessie met some friends, who had 
stopped to greet the Professor of German. They introduced 
the Wellesley girls to Professor Guttenberg. Bessie imme- 
diately began to speak of Jack’s poem, with enthusiastic 
praise. Lucile remembered that Jack had once been sum- 
moned to meet the faculty by the German Professor and was 
somewhat surprised, but greatly pleased to hear him say, “I 
expected something brilliant from that young man.” 

She inquired, “Do you not think. Professor Guttenberg, 


ATTEND COMMENCEMENT 


233 


that Mr. Venator ’s poem was the best thing on the pro- 
gramme? That was our conclusion, and we should like to 
have your opinion.” 

The Professor answered, “Yes, easily the best.” 

He wondered why this visiting Wellesley girl looked so 
happy over his reply. He was a bachelor. 

As she saw Jack pass out to the street, through another 
door, she noticed that the other girl looked proud and happy 
too. She felt a pang of jealousy, but was glad to note that 
her seeming rival was proud of Jack. 

“The heart of woman tastes no truer joy. 

Is never flattered with such dear enchantment — 

’Tis more than selfish vanity — as when 
She hears the praises of the man she loves.” 

On Commencement Day, Jack held his audience, as no 
other speaker among his classmates was able to do. Lucile 
whispered to Bessie, “The secret of it all is that he is differ- 
ent.” 

Bessie said, “Do you not think Bob made a good speech?” 

“Yes, I do Bessie. It was a great speech and was finely 
delivered. I think it was the best speech, next to Jack’s.” 

“I forgive you Lucile, I know there is something about 
Jack’s way of saying things that nobody else has.” 

Lucile said proudly, “Yes, he makes people sit up and lis- 
ten.” 

“What did you think of the young woman, who posed as 
your rival?” 

“She is handsome.” 

“Did you notice how proud she was of Jack?” 

“Yes, I rather liked her for that; but to tell the truth 
Bessie, I am a little worried about that girl.” 


DIFFERENT 


234 

“Oh, you need not worry, Jack is sometimes foolish, but 
never fickle. You, of course, understand that he escorted 
this large and flourishing young woman to the Class Day 
exercises to sort of even up things for your treatment of him 
yesterday — and to tell you the truth I think you deserved it.” 

“And to tell you some more truth, I think so too.” 

Through Bob, Venator learned on what train Lucile and 
Bessie would leave and both went to the station to see them 
off. Lucile greeted Jack with a radiant smile. 

He said, whimsically, “Again I am your slave. I intended 
to be dignified and severe, and show my resentment for the 
way in which you treated me, when you delivered the fan to 
the wrong man; but it is no use, I melt like lead under a 
blow-pipe, whenever I am permitted to bask in the light of 
that smile.” 

Jack and Lucile sauntered to the farthest end of the plat- 
form, while Bob and Bessie judiciously found seats inside the 
station-house. 

Lucile made no reply to her lover’s comic remarks, until 
they were well away from the crowd, and then she said, 
“Jack, please don’t be dignified and severe. Who was that 
beautiful girl the other evening?” 

“That does not seem like a very definite question; but I 
suppose it is useless for me to assume that I do not under- 
stand. I am tempted to say, you ; but I suppose you mean the 
young woman that I escorted to the! Class Day blow-out.” 

Lucile laughed and said, “Yes, I mean the imposing young 
woman that you fairly flaunted on Class Day evening.” 

“Well she was and is. Miss Sarah Ludwick, of Fairview. 
How did you and Billie enjoy the Field Meet?” 

“Suppose we do not talk about either any more.” 

“No, let us can Billie and Sadie.” 

“Billie is all right. Billie is a mighty fine fellow.” 


ATTEND COMMENCEMENT 235 

“So is Sadie a mighty fine girl, but I do not intend to rub 
it in.” 

“Jack, I intended to be awfully nice to Billie. I sort of 
felt that I owed it to him. I did not succeed in being what 
I intended to be.” 

“Hurrah for you. This is the first failure I ever ap- 
plauded.” 

“I am afraid you succeeded better with Sadie.” 

“Well no, my time was too much occupied — my mind was 
also occupied.” 

“Yes, to be sure, your mind was on your poem.” 

“My mind was on you, but you are a sort of poem.” 

“I think we need Bob’s favorite exclamation just at this 
point.” 

Jack said earnestly, “Lucile your disfavor takes all the 
poetry out of life for me.” 

“Jack, you are a dear.” 

“Then the engagement still holds.” 

“Oh, yes, until I get home again, at least.” 

They returned to the station-house in time to join in part- 
ing salutations. 

Bob said, “Lucile, I see, by Jack’s glowing countenance, 
that whatever treatment you have given him, you have made 
it easier for me to live with him for another night.” 

Lucile laughed happily and said, “Bob, he will never live 
with a more loyal friend than you.” 

Bob answered, “I do not dare to say it, but you know what 
I think.” 

Lucile blushed and she and Bessie scampered on to the 
train, just before it began to move, waving adieus to the 
college chums. Jack and Bob remained another day to dis- 
mantle their rooms, and to prepare to leave for their homes. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


Jack Arranges a Visit to Cousin Bob 


*'All mankind loves a lover/" 

— Emerson. 


HE following Autumn, Jack took up his residence at 



the Theological Seminary, after teaching again in the 


far west, through the summer. Lucile and her lover, 
of course, exchanged letters during the term of Jack’s sum- 
mer-school. Jack wrote in his characteristic, humorous, and 
optimistic style. Lucile’s letters continued to be burdened 
with her constant dread of her mother’s opposition. Mrs. 
Hammond kept her daughter moving so rapidly from place 
to place, during the warm season, that she found it difficult 
to secure the necessary privacy for carrying on a frequent 
correspondence. Moreover Jack was able to reach his sweet- 
heart with a letter, only at long intervals. 

Fortunately for the peace and happiness of the lovers, Mrs. 
Hammond did not learn that Venator was about to enter 
the Theological Seminary on the North Side of the neigh- 
boring city. She never deigned to make any inquiry about 
him, but assuming that he was somewhere, she did her best 
to keep Lucile somewhere else. 

A trip to California kept her daughter well out of Jack’s 
way, until a few days before the opening of the Autumn term 
in Wellesley. Her mother insisted on going to the Pacific 
Coast by way of the Canadian Pacific to make sure that she 
would not encounter him. As Lucile humorously remarked, 
her mother seemed to think that Jack filled a large part of th( 


236 


JACK ARRANGES A VISIT TO COUSIN BOB 237 

middle west during the summer months. 

A few weeks after his return to school, Jack received a 
letter from his sweetheart, stating that she would visit friends 
in Philadelphia during the Christmas Holidays. 

This communication gave rise to a suggestion which called 
forth the following letter : 

“Dear Lucile: — ^Your charming letter suggests to me a 
possible scheme for once more seeing you. 

Please agree to it, if you do add, as you are sure to do, that 
this is probably the last time, that I shall ever see you. I am 
willing to take chances on that. Now to the exposition of my 
brilliant and daring plan. I have a cousin. Bob Venator, 
who married a Vassar girl. I know, through Bob, that al- 
though outranking you in seniorty by one year, you and Mrs. 
Bob were warm friends. I feel sure that Bob’s wife is pin- 
ing to see you. Another fact having some bearing on the 
intrigue that I have in mind, is that I am booked for a visit 
to my reverend cousin, during the Christmas vacation. I 
received the invitation yesterday. Bob is Pastor of the Pres- 
byterian Church in Cedar Falls, which can be reached from 
Philadelphia in a few hours. You now begin to see my drift. 

My projected arrangement is a house party at Bob’s, con- 
sisting of his favorite cousin and the school friend of his 
new wife. Bob is a bully fellow. You know his wife. 

My visit to Bob is already arranged. It is perfectly proper 
for you to visit your Wellesley chum in her new home. 

Bessie, with her usual ingenuity can doubtless procure an 
invitation for you from Bob’s wife, in a way that will make 
my new cousin think it is her own idea. 

Bob knows all about you and my troubles. 

I await your reply with impatience. Do not let your 
Puritan conscience make you too refractory. 


238 


DIFFERENT 


‘Necessity urges desperate measures/ 

Remember that I have not seen you since you waved good- 
bye, from the train that cruelly carried you away from the 
college town, a day before the village regretfully parted with 
Bob and the writer. 

I must see you. I know df no other plan so proper, so feas- 
ible and so delightful. 

Looking forward with much hope and some confidence to 
a merry meeting in the manse, I am 

Yours always. 

Jack.” 

A week later. Jack received the following reply: 

“Dear Jack: — Your plan as outlined, is not proper and 
is not feasible — it might of course, be ‘delightful!’ I would 
not think of any such meeting, prearranged by ourselves. 
Well, I might think of it, but I am sure that I would not 
agree to it — at least I do not think I should agree. I hope I 
would not. 

My supposedly Puritan conscience will be subjected to a 
little less strain — just a little. 

Nellie, (your cousin’s wife) invited me, at your Com- 
mencement, to visit her at Christmas, and I accepted at once. 
So you see I was invited and had accepted the invitation, long 
before you received an invitation, and without any intrigue. 

I think I shall go. I do not see that I should decline an 
invitation already accepted, because the husband of the friend 
whom I am to visit has awkwardly invited a friend of his to 
visit him at the same time. 

I have determined not to worry myself with any specula- 
tions in regard to any possible plot, in which Bessie, or Nellie, 
or your cousin Bob, may have engaged, 


JACK ARRANGES A VISIT TO COUSIN BOB 239 


I do not feel just quite right about not cancelling my ac- 
ceptance of this invitation; but oh, Jack, I am afraid this is 
the last time I shall be permitted to see you. I must see you 
once more to impress upon you how increasingly hopeless bur 
case is becoming. 

Somewhat remorsefully yours, 

Lucile.” 

When Jack had read and re-read the letter a number of 
times, he took it to Bob, who was rooming near by. Bob had 
secured a position in a bank in the same city and naturally 
secured sleeping accommodations on the North Side, near to 
the dormitory, in which Jack had drawn a room. 

Bob, after reading Lucile’s reply said, “The letter seems 
very characteristic.” 

“Yes, very feminine, but very satisfactory.” 

“What was your fool plan. Jack?” 

“Oh, simple enough — to get Bessie to secure Lucile an 
invitation to Cedar Falls for Christmas.” 

“The Gods seem to have favored you.” 

“Or Bessie.” 

“I think this was probably the idea of the other Bob. It 
is a great thing to have a name like that.” 

“Yes, it is very like what he would do, notwithstanding his 
theological training. He has always been satisfactorily indig- 
nant, over the treatment that I have received from the recal- 
citrant mother of my future wife.” 

“Oh, well I suppose it must be all right with a preacher 
and his wife to chaperon 5^ou.” 

“There never was any other thing quite so right.” 

“I am afraid Lucile would not agree with that.” 

“Well, may be not theoretically, but I am so interested in 
the practical working out of this scheme, or special provi- 


240 


DIFFERENT 


dence, or whatever it turns out to be that I am not disposed 
to theorize.” 

“Please don’t.” 

“If I didn’t love you so much, Bob, I should petifogulize 
just to bore you.” 

“Lucile is a brick.” 

“There was never any body quite so delicious, Bob. It 
seems like an inconsistent characterization; but she is cute, 
conscientious, and courageous.” 

“Yes, notwithstanding your alliteration, she is all of that.” 

“No thank you Bob, I shall not accept an invitation to visit 
you at Christmas time.” 

“I am going to see my own sweetheart then. How would 
you alliteratively characterize her?” 

“I would say, she is pretty, petite, and particular.” 

“Yes, that seems to cover the case. What puzzles me is 
how she ever came to accept me, since she has the last named 
trait.” 

“Probably because you are not general.” 

“I used the term particular, in the same sense that you used 
it.” 

“Oh, sure I am just being smart.” 

“Trying to.” 

“Yes, trying to, but I understand just how you feel. 
Lucile is miles and miles too good for me.” 

“Oh, rats!” 

“Thanks Bob, I had an inspiration that we were coming 
to that.” 

“Great big grey rats!” 

“Yes, to be sure that does help some. As I think the mat- 
ter over the only consolation I get is in speculating on whom 
Lucile would marry, if I should abandon all hope. Now take 
that Billie Houston gink. — ^Well, she had better marry me. 


JACK ARRANGES A VISIT TO COUSIN BOB 241 


When I go over all the young men of my acquaintance, it 
makes me shudder to think of any of them as Lucile’s hus- 
band. It is only when I think over my possible rivals that I 
am convinced that she might ‘go farther and fare worse’ — 
Not that I do not know that many of them are better fellows 
than I, but it somehow seems to me, that they would not suit 
Lucile.” 

“You at least will not bore her.” 

“Bob, you certainly have a knack of hitting the nail on the 
head with great certainty and exactness. You are the best 
psychological carpenter, that I know.” 

“Many thanks for those kind words.” 

“I think you have guessed the riddle. I knew that I did 
not possess any distinguishing positive virtue. Unlike Des- 
demona, Lucile loves me for what I have not done. She 
tolerates me because I do not bore her.” 

“Well, Jack, you know yourself, that helps some.” 

“It sure does. — Suppose that I had had to room with 
Brown, throughout my college course.” 

“It makes one tired to think of it.” 

“Yes, it sort of overtaxes the imagination.” 

“Rejoice that you do not bore Lucile.” 

“My accomplishments do not seem, to have the same effect 
on every body. Granted that I do not bore Lucile. I affect 
her mother positively — I enrage her.” 

“People who enrage you, do not bore you.” 

“That will not do for a general proposition Bob — ^witness 
Brown.” 

“Well, let us make it less general; many people who en- 
rage you, do not bore you. I do not believe that you bore 
Mrs. Hammond.” 

“Again you give me some comfort. Bob. One ultimately 
may be able to forgive a person who enrages him, but never 


242 


DIFFERENT 


one who bores him.’* 

“Oh, I am a great little comforter — I am.” 

“Bob, you are the real thing, but I must hasten back to my 
Hebrew. Good-bye.” 

“Good-bye my Hebrew friend.” 

And the boys parted, both heartened by their companion- 
ship and friendship. 


CHAPTER XXV 


Lucile Makes An Unsuccessful Attempt to Dismiss 
Jack 

'T have no other than a womans reason: 

I think him so because I think him so/' 

— Two Gentlemen of Verona. 

O N the morning of the Saturday, preceding Christmas 
Day, Lucile arrived at the home of the Reverend Mr. 
Robert Venator. Jack arrived the afternoon of the 
same day. Lucile soon discovered that her friend Nellie, had 
learned all the more important particulars of the un-smooth 
path of Jack’s true love. She somehow did not seem to care 
that Jack had told his cousin; but she, at first, resented Bob’s 
telling his wife what Jack had confided to him, although she 
felt sure that Jack had not put him under any promise not to 
tell Nellie. 

Upon reflection, however, she decided that Bob had done 
just what she would like Jack to do, under the circum- 
stances; and she saw that a complete understanding of the 
situation would make it easier for everybody. 

Bob was humorously tolerant and Nellie was actively sym- 
pathetic. 

All attended the morning church service, on the following 
day, and heard a stirring sermon from Jack’s cousin that all 
commended. 

After a mid-day dinner, the Reverend Mr. Venator ac- 
companied by Jack, drove some five or six miles to a village, 
where the clergyman had agreed to preach a Christmas ser- 


mon. 


243 


244 


DIFFERENT 


The day was very cold. After they had started on their 
way a strong wind arose and snow began to fall. They, how- 
ever, reached the church before the full force of the storm 
had broken upon them. On their return the temperature 
was lower, the wind fiercer, and the snow deeper. 

After putting away the horse, on reaching home, the two 
men staggered into the house, benumbed by the severe cold. 
Nellie, with anxious face, came forward to meet her hus- 
band, and Lucile with a welcoming smile greeted Jack, and 
unconsciously began to open his great coat. Jack declares 
that to this day he carries the vision of Lucile’s sweet glad 
face as she looked up at him, while she unbuttoned his over- 
coat. 

Lucile was embarrassed when she found what she had 
done; but Bob and Nellie, with fine courtesy, affected not to 
have noticed, and Jack looked so happy over it all, that she 
found herself unable to regret that she had substituted her 
nimble fingers for his, which were benumbed with cold. 

Nellie relieved the situation by extended comment upon 
the weather, and added, “That poor horse must have had a 
hard time.” 

Her husband replied, “Yes, he did; but I think upon the 
whole, he had rather the better of it. He was able to keep 
warm. We nearly froze.” 

Nellie observed, “Bob your nose is red.” 

Jack commented, “Well, who cares if his nose is red, since 
the Bible has been read.” 

Bob groaned. Lucile said, “Jack, that was pretty bad.” 

“Yes, I admit it. I thought as hot a sketch as that in the 
way of a pun might help my circulation.” 

Nellie inquired anxiously how Bob’s Christmas sermon 
had been received. 

Jack replied, “It was just the kind of sermon that every 


LUCILE ATTEMPTS TO DISMISS JACK 245 


body needs. There was something in it for saints, and for 
sinners, and for the kind that the Lord spews out of his 
mouth.” 

Lucile remarked, “That is a delicate figure. Jack.” 

Jack said, “It is not my figure.” 

Lucile laughed and answered, “Oh, I see, I am getting on 
to dangerous ground, I do not wish to criticize the Bible.” 

Jack said, “Well, abandoning all figures, scriptural and 
otherwise, I assert that it was a good sermon.” 

Nellie exclaimed, “I am so glad.” 

Her husband commented with a laugh, “Nellie, you seem 
somewhat surprised to hear that it was good.” 

“Oh, I know your sermons are always good, but I am 
always a little anxious.” 

“So am I always a little anxious, and my sermons are not 
always good, but please do not exhibit such glad surprise, 
when you hear that one is good.” 

Jack interposed, “That is a good idea Bob. Maybe you 
can fool the people into believing that they are always good, 
if you always assume that they are.” 

Nellie said, “Bob I am just a little afraid of this cousin of 
yours. I am never quite sure when he means what he says. 
I am even beginning to be a little doubtful about your 
Christmas sermon.” 

Her husband replied, “Oh, you may always depend on 
Jack’s compliments. It is when he criticizes that he drifts 
into persiflage.” 

“By the way. Bob, what do they pay you for operating on 
those rubes to-night?” Jack inquired. 

“Nothing.” 

“That sermon was worth fifty dollars. Bob ; but I like you 
all the better, since I know that you did not get anything for 


246 


DIFFERENT 


“Do you not think the laborer worthy of his hire?” 

“Yes, worthy of it, but it is a lot better for a fellow occa- 
sionally to be worthy of it and not get it.” 

“Do you think it is a good thing for people to get some- 
thing for nothing?” 

“I am not sure that it is philosophically sound, but I con- 
fess I am always pleased, when people, who are not able to 
pay the price, get something for nothing.” 

“Jack, I should like to hear you preach a sermon.” 

“I did preach once by invitation of the Pastor of the Third 
Church of Cincinnati.” 

“That was starting rather high up, was it not?” 

“Yes, but the fact that the great man had to vindicate 
himself in inviting me, made me comparatively safe.” 

“Did you preach a good sermon?” 

“I thought it was a good sermon, but I could not discover 
that any body else thought so.” 

“Oh, that congregation would not compliment the Apostle 
Paul, if he were to preach to them. If you wished compli- 
ments you took your goods to a poor market.” 

“Well, that is \vhat I wished.” 

Lucile interposed, “Jack, if anybody else would say that, 
it would sound ridiculous. Why is it that it does not sound 
ridiculous when you say it?” 

“I am not quite sure that it is not ridiculous, but let us 
assume that it is not and try to explain. Most people would 
not say it. They would simply, in some way, make it glar- 
ingly clear that they wished the compliments, and show at 
the same time, that they thought they had fooled you into 
thinking that they did not wish commendation of any kind. 
That of course, is ridiculous. There is really nothing unfit- 
ting in desiring merited commendation. If you do desire it, 
and say so, it is not ridiculous because the truth is never 


LUCILE ATTEMPTS TO DISMISS JACK 247 

ridiculous. I thought that was a good sermon for a boy, and 
I should have felt much better, if someone had said so. When 
I implied the word compliment, I did not use it in the sense 
of delicate flattery, but as meaning simply the expression of 
approbation.” 

Bob commented, “Jack, that is quite a discourse. I agree 
with you that commendation is seldom out of place.” 

Jack resumed, “The idea that some body promulgates and 
then abandons every now and then, that we should not re- 
serve our encomia to engrave upon the tomb-stones of those 
of whom we approve, has much wisdom in it.” 

Lucile interposed, “Jack, I think you ought to be called the 
many sided John. One is always discovering some undiscov- 
ered side.” 

Jack laughed and said, “A sort of polyhedral Japanese lan- 
tern effect. I am willing to try to be the lantern if you will 
engage to be the light to bring out my full polyhedrous 
beauty.” 

Lucile changed the subject by asking, “Jack, do you ever 
expect to preach again?” 

“I am going to deliver a half dozen supposedly ethical and 
religious talks to a congregation just organized among the 
negroes of the hill district in your home city. I shall then 
abandon the pulpit for the Professor’s chair ; if any body will 
furnish the chair.” 

Jack’s cousin said, “Why not continue in the ministry — a 
preacher is a teacher?” 

Jack replied, “I should rather do my teaching where my 
hearers are compelled to listen and take in what I am saying, 
under penalty of flunking on examination.” 

“Do people refuse to listen to you from the rostrum?” 

“No, they haven’t yet, but there is no telling, when they 
will begin. Besides I fear that I am not sufficiently tolerant 


248 


DIFFERENT 


of the trivial troubles of fussy people to make a good pastor ; 
and I believe that it is part of the duty of a pastor to be sym- 
pathetic in his treatment of fussy people’s trivial troubles. 
Moreover, I do not feel worthy of the pastorate.” 

His cousin smiling and shrugging his shoulders said, “Jack, 
you portray some of the duties of the pastor, alas, all too 
accurately.” 

Nellie and her husband judiciously retired early and left 
the cheerful woodfire of the living-room to Jack and Lucile. 

After their hosts were well out of hearing. Jack looking 
whimsically at Lucile said, “I feel like a sixteen year old 
country boy making his first call on his sweetheart. I scarcely 
know what to say.” 

“Why say anything.” 

“Sure enough. Bob, (I of course, mean my old room- 
mate) and I often sif for an hour and never say a blessed 
word.” 

“Well, you need not say anything Jack, but there are some 
things I wish to say to you.” 

“Sure, you are going to tell me that you love me and that 
you are going to marry me, as soon as I can provide a home, 
for you ; and that you do not care a snap what any body says 
about it.” 

“Now, Jack, dear, you know that that is just what I am 
not going to say — quite the reverse.” 

“Well, why say it then? I have heard you say it a half 
dozen times. I do not like to hear it.” 

“Sometimes, it is our duty to hear things that we do not 
like.” 

“Oh well go on and say it. I forewarn you that I shall 
not believe it, and shall not pay the slightest attention to it.” 

“Do you think that is quite polite. Jack?” 

“Oh, I beg pardon, I did not mean that I should pay no 


LUCILE ATTEMPTS TO DISMISS JACK 249 


attention to what you say — I mean I shall not heed it.” 

“I am afraid your nice distinction in synonyms does not 
leave your remark altogether amiable yet.” 

“I do not wish to be amiable at the expense of sincerity.” 

“Oh, I know, I am just putting off what I must say.” 

“Well, administer the medicine at once.” 

“Jack, you know I love and admire you very much — ” 

“At which I shall never cease to wonder.” 

“And I know you are a young man of great promise ; and I 
do not wish mother to die; and she will never consent; and 
you might have to wait for me for twenty years; and oh. 
Jack, it will spoil your whole career; and we must give up 
this foolish idea of ever getting married; and I do not wish 
to get married, oh. Jack — ” 

“It is no use Lucile, we have gone all over that before. 
May your mother live long, and be — reasonable. This is 
good enough for me. I am willing to wait twenty years, if 
necessary. I think when the c^sis comes you will not find it 
necessary. That is all moonshine about spoiling my career. 
You can not spoil what never was. I have not got any career. 
I do not know that I ever shall have any career. I certainly 
shall not have any very long period of achievement, without 
you. Lucile, you are as necessary to me as the air I breath. 
I can not imagine the world going on without you smiling in 
the foreground. A good and beautiful woman has the power 
to lift a man up to Heaven or send him hurtling down to hell. 
Since things have gone thus far, you have some responsibility 
for me.” 

“Jack you are too big and too fine to let your fancy for a 
vacillating little school girl like me have any influence on 
your great life work.” 

“Oh, rats!” 

Lucile tried to suppress a smile and Jack resumed, “Lucile, 


250 


DIFFERENT 


you are trying to shirk responsibility, and you are trying to 
convince yourself of something, which you do not yourself 
believe.” 

Lucile again looked serious. “I am afraid I am trying to 
avoid responsibility. But I am in some degree responsible 
both for and to my mother. I wish I could fall in love with 
some other man. Jack, then you would run off mad and after 
a little, feel all right; but I shall not pretened to love any 
body else, until I find that I really do. I wonder why I like 
so much to be with you. Jack.” 

“Bob, and I worked that out the other day. We found 
that I did not have any positive virtues; but that I merely 
did not bore you.” 

Lucile laughed and said, “That certainly is one good rea- 
son. Think of a life time of Billie Houston.” 

“I am not egotistic Lucile, I have a sufficiently poor opin- 
ion of myself — but think of a life-time with any of my num- 
erous rivals.” 

Lucile struggling between laughter and weeping replied, 
“I see Jack, it is just impossible — impossible.” 

“Now, this affinity comes about not because of any special 
excellence in me; but just because the Lord made us that 
way. I say it in all reverence Lucile : ‘What the Lord hath 
joined together, let no man put asunder.’ ” 

“Somehow Jack, things do not seem so impossible after I 
talk with you.” 

“This confounded unreasonable opposition of your mother 
is the hardest thing conceivable to bear patiently.” 

“Well, Jack, you will have to put up with it for many 
years.” 

“I wonder why.” 

“To cultivate your patience. You know Jack patience is 
not one of your shining virtues.” 


LUCILE ATTEMPTS TO DISMISS JACK 251 


“I fear that I am a little short on ‘shining virtues.’ My 
virtues do not shine.” 

“I think that is one reason I like you, Jack. You do not 
go around with a halo.” 

“No, a halo would not harmonize with my necktie.” 

“And you could not get your hat on with it. Jack.” 

“Oh, I should wear it only in the house. I wish I could 
borrow one for six months. Perhaps I could then reconcile 
your mother. What kind of man does your mother like any- 
way?” 

“She likes a man like you. Jack. She opposes you simply 
because she started out that way and will not change her atti- 
tude.” 

“I thought, consistency’s a jewel — I see it isn’t.” 

“It is certainly not the kind of jewelry that most women 
affect. Mother assumes the roll of your bitter enemy; yet 
she seems to enjoy you, when she is compelled to tolerate 
you. I am sure Billie Houston bores her dreadfully, and yet 
she, wishes me to marry him.” 

“Well, you see, she does not expect to live with him. He 
is the kind of fellow that she thinks she would like you to 
live with.” 

Lucile laughed, “It looks as if you are getting to know 
mother pretty well.” 

“When I look at you and think what a rare woman you 
are, Lucile, I can understand why your mother might hesi- 
tate to hand you over to me — that is not what makes me 
most indignant. The thing that both enrages and abases me 
is the fact that she would be willing to commit you to the 
care and keeping of a gump like Billie Houston.” 

“Since I saw you Jack, she wished to commit me to a 
preacher of the gospel. 

“Was he in on the secret?” 


252 


DIFFERENT 


Lucile blushed and answered, “Yes, he seemed more than 
willing.” 

“Bully for him.” 

“I rejected him.” 

“Bully for you.” 

Lucile with a quizzical smile said, “You see Jack, this 
appears to be the day of my opportunity. If you insist on 
continuing our engagement, you may never be able to marry 
me, and I shall have missed all my golden opportunities.” 

“Lucile, that sounds reasonable. When you find a man 
that you like better than me, you may break our engage- 
ment.” 

Jack looked disconsolate but determined. Lucile laughed 
happily and with a look in which were mingled archness, 
modesty, and love, said, “Jack, dear, if I ever find a man that 
I prefer to you I shall break our engagement at once.” 

Jack somehow felt comforted by this answer, the words of 
which should have had quite the opposite effect, and replied, 
“Lucile, if you ever do break our engagement on those 
grounds, do not look at me like that, or all my sense of the 
reasonable will fail me. The primitive man in me will take 
control, and I shall rise up against my rival and slay him and 
carry you off by force to my lair.” 

Lucile again laughed happily and said, “Do you know 
Jack, I think it is the primitive man in you that I like. I do 
believe I should like to be carried off.” 

“That is what is going to happen sometime, unless the 
skein unravels.” 

“Of course you will have to find me before you can carry 
me off. Mother is a pretty artful dodger.” 

“Yes, I know she goes where she pleases and ships you 
with the trunks. Would that I could rescue you from the 
tyranny of the ogre.” 


LUCILE ATTEMPTS TO DISMISS JACK 253 

“Now Jack, you know Mother is not an ogre at all. She 
is a most lovable and entertaining woman, and she knows 
what’s what as well as any body you could find.” 

“Oh, I know, there are no flies on her. But if she persists 
I think I forsee, that we shall fly from her.” 

“No, I positively refuse to elope.” 

“Lucile, I gather a grain of comfort from this conference 
on our future outlook. In case you can cajole, or bully, or 
force your mother into consenting to our marriage, if she 
does not really dislike me, she and I shall get along together 
passably well.” 

“There is some comfort in that. I shall think that over 
at my leisure.” 

“Please do, we seem to have lots of leisure.” 

“I go to my room right now, to think — and to sleep,” and 
with one of her rare smiles, followed by a musical laugh, she 
was gone. 

To Jack the rustle of her garments and the patter of her 
feet upon the stairs were dear and sacred as the rustle of an 
angel’s wings. 

Jack lighted a Pittsburgh stogie and for the next half hour 
gave himself up to visions of Lucile as she would appear in a 
home that he hoped sometime, somewhere to establish. 

Lucile left Cedar Falls, Monday morning and returned to 
Philadelphia. 

Jack remained for a few days with his cousin and came 
back to books, dormitory, and boarding house. 


CHAPTER XXVI 

Grandmother Shaw’s Theology 

Better had they ne'er been born 

Who read to doubts or read to scorn." 

— Scott. 

M rs. Hammond took Lucile to Florida for her Eas- 
ter vacation. Jack accepted an invitation from a 
college and seminary class-mate, Charles Shaw, 
whose home was on a farm near Lucile’s home city. 

The father of Charles was a big prosperous jovial man, 
who regarded farming as the highest of all vocations and 
who thought that a man who did not know how to farm did 
not know anything worth while. 

Deceived by Jack’ city-bred appearance, he asked him if 
this were his first visit to the country. 

Jack replied, “Oh, I know that cows do not give butter- 
milk and that potatoes do not grow on trees and a few inter- 
esting facts of that kind.” 

Charles interposed, “Why Dad, Jack was raised on a 
farm.” 

Jack added, “Yes, my earliest recollections are of horses, 
hogs, and hominy.” 

Mr. Shaw commented, “Well you certainly don’t look it.” 
Jack laughed and replied, “How ought a fellow who has 
ridden horses, fed hogs, and eaten hominy to look?” 

“You do not seem ruddy enough for a farmer. You seem 
too frail.” 

“F^t does not count, Mr. Shaw. It is muscle, good hard 

254 


GRANDMOTHER SHAW’S THEOLOGY 255 

muscle, that a farmer most needs.” 

Mr. Shaw, whose outer garments consisted of only shirt 
and trousers, rolled up his sleeve to the shoulder, thereby 
displaying a finely developed arm, and remarked, “That is 
the kind of thing a farmer ought to develop.” 

Jack looked admiringly at the farmer’s brawny brachium 
and said, “Mr. Shaw, how much bigger do you think your arm 
is than mine?” 

Mr. Shaw answered, “Charlie, just to try it out measure 
them up.” 

Charles took a measuring tape from his pocket and mea- 
suring his father’s upper arm, called off the figures in his 
best base-ball umpire tones. 

Jack then bared his long, white shapely arm and looking at 
it with manifest satisfaction said, “Charlie, try your tape on 
that frail member.” 

Charles measured Jack’s arm and with a laugh, reported 
that it measured exactly the same as his father’s imposing 
bi-ceps. 

Mr. Shaw seemed astonished at the result, and insisted on 
making thfr measurement himself. Looking at the tape with 
a puzzled expression he said, “Well, I’ll be darned.” 

“Oh, no I wouldn’t do that, I merely wished to call your 
attention to the fact that a man is not necessarily frail because 
he is not thick.” 

Charles added, “I think 1 may now venture to tell you 
Dad, that Jack is one of the strongest men in our class.” 

Mr. Shaw, who had more regard for muscle than for mind, 
regarded Jack with greater respect after he had measured his 
arm. Jack, on his return, described Mr. Shaw to Bob, as 
“a man who does not rise, when his wife enters the room, and 
smokes a cigar, with the band on it.” 

Mrs. Shaw was a woman of some education and refine- 


256 


DIFFERENT 


ment. She was ambitious to have all her sons graduate at the 
college of which Jack is an alumnus, hence the attendance of 
Charles at that institution. 

Mr. Shaw was one of those men, who are convinced that 
all efficiency will vanish with their generation. Consequently 
he did not regard his boys as likely to be much help on the 
farm, and good naturedly permitted his wife to have her way, 
in regard to their education. 

Another interesting member of the family was the mother 
of Mr. Shaw, an old farm wife of the old school. She at this 
time was seventy-five years of age and retained her mental 
and bodily vigor. She, like her son, had a good mind ; and 
like her son, she regarded education as useless. Mr. Shaw, 
however, had had the advantage of good common school 
training, and could speak the English language, with a fair 
degree of accuracy. Even this the old lady regarded as an 
affectation. 

The senior Mrs. Shaw was bright and original in her re- 
marks, and upon the whole, was a great delight to Jack. 

After a good mid-day meal he and Charles would smoke 
their stogies, while the old lady enjoyed her cob-pipe. 

Jack asked her if she thought a woman ought to smoke. 

The old lady answered, “What is good for the goose, is 
good for the gander.’^ 

Jack replied, “Yes, I know the wisdom of our ancestors is 
in that proverb. By the way, do you not think a woman is a 
little of a goose to smoke?” 

“Well, if she be a goose, he be a gander.” 

“Mrs. Shaw, I am afraid I could not just agree with you 
that a woman may do any thing with impunity that a man 
may do. However I shall not argue the matter. I think I 
like you better because you smoke.” 

“I am sure I like you better, because you smoke, but law, 


GRANDMOTHER SHAW’S THEOLOGY 257 


how slim you be. You ought to come out and live on a farm 
and get strong.” 

Jack laughed and picking up the old lady and her chair, 
carried her from the porch and set the chair and its occupant 
on the kitchen table. 

The old lady exclaimed, “La, sakes, and what would you 
be doing with an old woman like me?” Then looking pleas- 
antly down at Jack she said, “I weigh a hundred and forty 
pounds and I suppose that chair weighs right smart too. 
Well, I guess you are just showing off. I guess you don’t 
need to get strong.” 

“Yes, I am just showing off. I guess I shall have to show 
off before every member of this family, before they will be 
content to let me stay here instead of sending me to a sana- 
torium.” 

Jack picked the old lady up and carried her back to her 
favorite place on the back porch. 

She laughed good naturedly and said, “Sure you be a 
bonnie lad after all.” 

Jack answered, “The thing that I am trying to demon- 
strate is that I am a brawny lad.” 

Charles remarked, “If it would count for anything here, 
I might remark that you are also a brainy lad.” 

Jack quoted, “ ‘Nor soul helps flesh more now than flesh 
helps soul.’ ” 

During the course of this conversation, Mrs. Shaw declar- 
ed, “No, I am not no great hand for lamin’.” 

Charles interposed, “Now, grandmother, do you not see; 
that if you are ‘not no great hand for learning’ you are a 
great admirer of education?” 

Jack exclaimed, “Oh, cut that out Charlie, we under- 
stand what she means.” 

Mrs. Shaw said, “I am sure you do a sight better than I 


258 


DIFFERENT 


understand what you mean. Now that gibberish of yours, 
Jack, about soul and flesh, don’t seem to me to make no sense 
at all.” 

Jack said, “Oh, I am not responsible for that. A fellow 
named Browning, who was better educated than we are first 
said that.” 

“Lamin’ don’t seem to do no good no how. Now there is 
Brother Cary, the Preacher at the Baptist Church, who 
hasn’t got no book lamin’ and he can beat any of your lamed 
men preachin’.” 

“Oh, yes, I have heard of him. He is the kind of fellow 
who would beat anybody who got in his way.” 

Old Mrs. Shaw said, “I did not mean that he would beat 
any one with a stick.” 

“Oh, I know Mrs. Shaw, I apologize; but he would not 
hesitate to use a stick, would he?” 

“No, I don’t know as he would. It is a good thing to 
use a stick sometimes.” 

Jack quoted : 

“Be you to others kind and true. 

As you’d have others be to you. 

And neither do nor say to man. 

What e’er you would not take again ; 

But if man should do or say to you. 

That which is neither kind nor tme, 

Take a good stick and say to man 
Don’t say nor do that thing again.” 

Grandmother Shaw laughed and said, “Them is just my 
sentiments.” 

Jack commented, “And I think after all roughly scrip- 
tural.” 


GRANDMOTHER SHAW’S THEOLOGY 259 


Charlie enquired, “How do you reconcile that with turning 
your other cheek?” 

Jack replied, “I think the teaching of Scripture is that one 
should submit to any amount of abuse if thereby he can in- 
crease his prospect of doing his brother any spiritual good. 
Unless there is such prospect no such sacrifice of the right of 
self-defense is required of him. The great teacher also 
warned us against casting our pearls before swine. The 
human hog cannot find much comfort in or out of Scrip- 
ture.” 

Mrs. Shaw said, “Now, to go back to the lamin’: the 
Lord understands what I say all right. I hev been a prayin’ 
for that boy Charlie, ever since he was a baby, and the good 
Lord is a goin’ to answer my prayer by makin’ him a preach- 
er.” 

Jack said, “Charlie, we have a chance to learn a little 
theology here — Mrs. Shaw, are all your prayers answered?” 

“No, not all.” 

“Why?” 

“Because of my ‘little faith.’ ” 

“It is that that is to blame then when you do not get an 
answer, not the Lord?” 

“Yes, I sometimes keep right on askin’ it and not expectin’ 
it. It is only them as asks in faith believin’ that receives.” 

Jack said, “That sounds scriptural. I do not know that we 
can improve on that much. That is just about the way I 
had figured it out myself, Mrs. Shaw. I think you have 
about convinced me that it is not necessary to be a purist in 
one’s use of English to be a theologian.” 

“What do the Scriptures mean, Mrs. Shaw by the words: 
‘Therefore as by the offense of one judgment came upon all 
men to condemnation ; even so by the righteousness of one the 
free gift came upon all men unto justification of life.’ Does 


26 o 


DIFFERENT 


that Scripture justify the Universalist?” 

“No, it doesn’t do nothin’ of the kind. That means that 
since Jesus died for sinners, every man, when he is born has a 
clean sheet; that he is no longer responsible for Adam’s sin; 
that he has now to be forgiven only for his own sin.” 

Jack after musing for a moment said, “Well, there is 
nothing better than that in the books.” 

“Since I can no longer hoe taters or milk cows, I do a heap 
of thinkin’. ” 

Jack said, “You do it to very good purpose; but I hope 
you will sometime learn to tolerate the man who feels that 
he ought to speak good English.” 

“Oh, you fellows can talk any way you like, so you don’t 
take the name of your maker in vain.” 

“We never have. I have, on occasion, resorted to lan- 
guage not just fit for parlor use ; but I have always thought 
the man a presumptuous fool who takes God’s name in vain.” 

“Jack, I believe you are a right smart fellow.” 

“I am not a cad. My virtues are all negative.” 

“Now there you go again, so I don’t know what you are 
talkin’ about.” 

“Oh, never mind that. Some of my talk is not worth 
understanding.” 

In the few remaining days of their vacation Jack and 
Charlie had many interesting conversations with the senior 
Mrs. Shaw. 

On bidding the sturdy old woman good-bye. Jack said, “I 
believe, Mrs. Shaw, that every one has some kind of a philos- 
ophy of life ; and the kind of man or woman he is depends on 
his philosophy of life.” 

Mrs. Shaw smiled and said, “I kind of guess what you 
mean Jack, and I think you are right.” 

On the way back on the train Jack said to his companion. 


GRANDMOTHER SHAW’S THEOLOGY 261 


“Charlie, with the blood of your grandmother in your veins 
you ought to be a good theologian ; with your father’s physi- 
cal vigor, you ought to make a good preacher; and with the 
inherited gentle manners of your mother, you ought to make 
a good pastor.” 

“Oh, my ancestors are all right, but I wish some of them 
were less murderously inclined towards the King’s English.” 

“Never mind their English, Charlie. Native ability that 
is the thing to inherit. We can get the culture. The thing 
that I am particularly thankful for is that our ancestors had 
fairly numerous convolutions in their brain structure. It is 
a good thing of course, to inherit a natural refinement, but 
the most important thing is the grey matter.” 

“You seem somehow to have inherited both, Jack.” 

“I am said to have had some aristocratic ancestors, some 
hundreds of years ago, in Scotland ; but I am afraid the aris- 
tocrats of Scotland of two or three hundred years ago, would 
shock all moderns of whatever breeding. You, Charlie, have 
acquired every thing that you did not inherit. Who cares, 
where it comes from, so you have got it.” 

“Echo, answers, who,” said Charlie, and added, “I sup- 
pose I have my mother to thank for the fact that I am able 
to avoid being loud.” 

Jack quoted : 

“He was the mildest mannered man 
That ever scuttled ship, or cut a throat.” 


CHAPTER XXVII 


Jack’s Love Affairs Get Another Setback 

'"None without hope e'er loved the brightest fair 
But love can hope, where reason would despair." 

— Lord Littleton. 

A FEW days after Jack’s return, Bob Russell came in- 
to his chum’s room in the dormitory in his usual 
noisy cheery way and taking a chair handed Jack a 
Pittsburg stogie. They smoked in silence for perhaps ten 
minutes. Bob’s vivacity suddenly failed him, and unconsci- 
ously he assumed a serious expression. 

Jack said, “Bob, you seem to have something on your 
mind ; better get it off and save brain fag.” 

Bob replied, “The longer I defer my revelation, the hap- 
pier you will be.” 

“Never mind the shock — let us have the apocalypse.” 
“Jack, I had a letter, today, from Bessie, and she told me 
all about Lucile, who has been visiting her, since her return 
last Saturday from Florida. She told me all about how she 
looks, and what she said.” — and Bob gave a long whistle. 
“Why the musical accompaniment?” 

“I have no language adequate for my comment on what 
she said.” 

“Well, I’ll be the goat. What did she say?” 

“You’re the goat all right.” 

“I brace myself for the shock: let me know the worst. 
Excuse my mock heroics Bob; but I think you had better 
relieve yourself and me by telling all she said.” 

262 


JACK’S LOVE AFFAIRS GET SETBACK 263 


“Bessie said that Lucile talked you over to her, and that 
she insists that she will have to abandon all hope of ever be- 
coming your wife.” 

Jack looked worried, but said somewhat flippantly, “She 
does that at frequent intervals.” 

“Every cloud has a silver lining Jack : she also said that she 
was just sure to be jealous of your wife, if you should ever 
marry any body else.” 

“She one time made to me, a most startling and comforting 
remark: she said, ‘Jack, if we ever get to the land o’ the leil 
I think I shall be jealous of the angels in Heaven.’ ” 

Bob replied, “Well, Mary would say that about me — if 
she would think of it.” 

Jack said, “One of Lucile’s many charms is that she so 
often startles you by the things she thinks of — never mind the 
preposition.” 

“Don’t you think her confession of jealousy helps a little?” 

Jack was determined to look upon the bright side of coming 
events, and quoted: 

“Was I deceived or did a sable cloud 
Turn forth her silver lining on the night?” 

Bob said, “I am glad to see that you are not taking Lucile’s 
forbodings too seriously.” 

“Oh, she is perfectly sincere; but I do not intend to let 
her do what she thinks she will have to do.” 

“By the Lord Harry, I don’t believe you will Jack.” 

“I certainly shall not. The only way that she will ever get 
rid of me is by falling in love with some other fellow.” 

“Now, if I were not engaged Jack, I might relieve the sit- 
uation, by inducing her to fall in love with me.” 

“With your disposition, Bob, any woman is wise who falls 


DIFFERENT 


264 

in love with you.” 

“Rats!” 

“We somehow always lead up to that Bob.” 

“Yes, that is the conclusion of the whole matter.” 

Bob, with a laugh bade Jack good-bye, and left the room 
in better spirits than when he entered. 

It was characteristic of Bob that he took Jack’s troubles 
more seriously than his own. 

A few days later Jack received the following letter from 
Lucile : 

“Dearest Jack: — The more I think over our affairs, the 
more hopeless they seem. I am firmly convinced that your 
career should not be marred by the worry and suspense of 
years of uncertainty in regard to your life companion. I 
write to ask you to break our engagement. I wish you to 
break it. I am sure that I can remain resolute better if you 
break the engagement. I really wish you to do this Jack. 
I am more concerned about your good than my own. I am 
sure it would be for your good. 

I shall always love you, and shall always be proud of you. 
I shall find a great pleasure in following your history, as the 
years go by. 

I can not bear to think that I shall never see you again. 
Perhaps after many years we shall become more used to the 
situation and I might even visit you and your family. 

I shall never marry. Jack — never any body else. 

With much love, 

Lucile.” 

When Bob read this letter, he said, “Well, I told you so.” 

“Bob, did you consider well the words following the dash 
in the last sentence?” 


JACK’S LOVE AFFAIRS GET SETBACK 265 

Bob, picking up the letter, again read, “never any body 
else.’^ 

Jack enquired, “Why add anything?” 

“I suppose she had a reason.” 

“No, not consciously. She did not know what she meant, 
but I know.” 

“I see, it shows that she hopes that you will not do what 
she thinks she wants you to do.” 

“Yes, I have a hope, that she sub-consciously felt that 
way.” 

Bob said, '‘Dum spiro, spero*' 

“Yes, that’s the idea, but run along old man and leave me 
to tackle a reply to this somewhat difficult letter, without a 
sympathizing companion. I shall do better alone.” 

Bob laughed and saying, “I accept your cordial invitation 
to go home,” went out whistling, trying thus to mislead Jack 
into thinking that his confidant did not regard the situation 
as serious. 

Jack’s letter follows: 

“My Own Dear Lucile: — ^Your letter with its (pardon 
me) foolish advice came duly, to hand. 

Do you not see that my career, as you are pleased to call 
my somewhat uncertain course through life, could not be 
helped by banishing all hope of ever having, as life com- 
panion, the only woman who could possibly fill that place. 
If we should have to wait for half a century it would be bet- 
ter to have hope spring eternal in my human breast, than to 
spend these years as a hopeless, unambitious old bachelor. 

With you out of the equation, the problem is really not 
worth the solution. 

Suppose it were true (which I positively deny) that I 
should succeed better by terminating my acquaintance with 


^66 


DIFFERENT 


you; what would you think of me for putting my interests 
before that of the woman whom I love? Would you be 
proud of me then? You see being the kind of man that you 
admire while defective in numberless ways, I can not be de- 
fective in chivalry — it is simply impossible. I should have to 
be a different man to do it. It is no use Lucile. Please do 
not repeat yourself. It may satisfy your conscience but I am 
sure it does violence to your literary instincts. 

I shall not annoy you by trying to see you until I have 
secured a position, with a salary upon which we can live mod- 
estly but comfortably — then, listen while I sing. 

Bob with his ‘rats,’ roguery, and romance is still a great 
comfort to me. 

Although he does his best to deceive me, I can see that he 
is a little worried for my sake over your letter. If it were 
not for his exaggerated confidence in me he would be much 
worried. Just this once I shall try to justify his confidence. 

Yours always. 

Jack.” 

Jack to escape anxiety immersed himself in his work in the 
Theological Seminary, and with such good results, that the 
president of the institution came to him with the offer of any 
financial aid he might need, if he should continue his course. 

Jack declined it with thanks explaining that he was not 
leaving the Seminary because of financial embarrassment. He 
told Dr. Wilson, that he was sure that with what help his 
father would give him he could earn sufficient to enable him 
to continue his theological studies. The president was wise 
enough not to insist ; but told him if he should ever change his 
mind, and at the same time, need funds that help could easily 
be secured. 

The Theological Seminary closed the last week in May. 


JACK’S LOVE AFFAIRS GET SETBACK 267 


A few days before, Jack secured the opportunity for profes- 
sorial work, which he had been seeking, and he hastened to 
write to Lucile: 

“My Own Sweet-heart: — ^You may as well begin the 
purchase of your trousseau. I had opportunities to secure 
three different teaching jobs. One is the principalship of an 
academy; another is a tutorship in a university; the other is 
a professorship in a college in the middle West. 

I think I shall ship on the professorship. Of all the ships, 
it seems to promise best. It carries with it more dignity, and 
will come more nearly giving my wife the position in society 
that she merits. 

The college is in a beautiful little town, the upper circle of 
which is made up of cultivated and agreeable people. The 
fact that I occupy a chair in the college will give us entree 
to this somewhat exclusive set. 

The chair in which I shall rattle around is labelled ‘Ethics 
and English Literature.’ Your mother would not be willing 
to grant me much knowledge of practical ethics but really I 
have a fair knowledge of the theoretical branch of the sub- 
ject, and shall learn much more as I go along, and possibly 
under your tutelage I may improve in practice. It should not 
be difficult to keep ahead of the average undergraduate in any 
kind of ethics — theoretical or practical. 

As to English Literature, I also know enough of that to 
last, while I learn more. 

You may as well warn your belligerent keeper, that some- 
thing is going to happen soon. 

I await congratulations — please remit. 

Yours for keeps, soon. 


Lucilc’s reply was brief and desperate; 


Jack.” 


268 


DIFFERENT 


“Dear Jack: — It is impossible, impossible, impossible! 
Don’t you see dear Jack, it is impossible? Do not even w^rite 
to me again, until I have time to think over this new situa- 
tion, and see just how impossible it is. 

Yours hopelessly, 

Lucile.” 

Jack answered at once, briefly: 

“My Own Dear Little Girl: — I shall give you time 
to think it over, and will not write to you again until I hear 
from you in some way — unless you delay unreasonably long. 
Observe the use of ‘shall’ and ‘will’ in the foregoing sen- 
tence and you will see that I mean it. 

When you think it over you will perceive that you are not 
mine ‘hopelessly’ but hopelessly mine. 

All and always yours, 


Jack. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


Another See-saw in Jack’s Love Affairs 

''None without hope e'er loved the brightest fair 
But love can hope, when reason would despair." 

— Lord Lyttleton. 

E arly in June, Lucile contracted a light case of 
typhoid fever. The family physician shrewdly guessed 
that she was troubled and asked her if she were not 
anxious about something. She confessed that she was very 
much worried, but declined to give any reasons. 

Feeling sick and weak she turned her face to the wall and 
sobbed. This frightened the old doctor. 

“Tut, tut, Lucile you must not do that,” he said. 

Lucile did not answer him. 

The doctor sat for some minutes apparently studying the 
case. He concluded not altogether unreasonably, that a per- 
son who has been worrying and got sick, has got sick because 
of the worry. Now worry affects the brain; so turning to 
Mrs. Hammond he said, “I should pronounce this a case of 
brain fever.” 

Lucile overheard the announcement, but was not fright- 
ened, as she felt sure her brain was not in any way involved. 
She, however, at once astutely perceived that having brain 
fever would not injure her prospects in any way, and entered 
no protest. 

Mrs. Hammond became dreadfully alarmed and sent for 
a noted specialist. Dr. Saul, a classmate of Dr. Haines, and 
of her late husband. 

269 . 


270 


DIFFERENT 


Dr. Saul knew Jack and liked him. He had got some 
hints from Dr. Haines concerning the love affairs of the 
president’s favorite. He regarded the opposition of Mrs. 
Hammond as nonsense and would not have hesitated to say 
so, had he deemed it wise. 

As soon as he saw Lucile he knew that her brain was not 
in any way affected. He however, looked grave, and said to 
Mrs. Hammond, “I wish to examine this young woman 
alone. In cases of brain fever one gets better results, by 
making the diagnosis when the mind of the patient is not 
diverted by the presence of other people.” 

Lucile caught a twinkle in the eye of the great man and 
laughed. 

Mrs. Hammond said, “You do seem to do her good doc- 
tor, that is the first time she has laughed for a week.” The 
physician did not answer but again looked grave, and Mrs. 
Hammond hurriedly left the room. 

Dr. Saul looked at Lucile and smiled, “You have not got 
any brain fever; in fact there is not any such thing as brain 
fever. You have a very light attack of typhoid fever. We 
shall not, however, change the name of your disease. We 
shall continue to call it brain fever. It will be better for the 
reputation of your family physician, and you may be able to 
use it to your own advantage.” 

Lucile looked alert and interested, but a little puzzled. 
When the old family doctor had pronounced her malady 
brain fever, she saw at once how she could use his diagnosis ; 
but she wondered how Dr. Saul could know what she had in 
mind. The specialist added, “I know Jack Venator and 
like him very much.” 

Lucile again laughed happily. The physician resumed, 
“No, don’t look too happy, that will not do. You can be just 
as sick as you like now. It will not hurt to rave a bit now 


SEE-SAW IN JACK’S LOVE AFFAIRS 271 


and then.” 

Lucile gave Jack’s friend a smile, that, to his mind justi- 
fied Jack’s choice, and said, “Doctor, you are a dear.” 

“That is not just what I am usually called, but I am glad 
to hear you say it.” 

“Do you know Doctor, that sounds just like Jack?” 

“No, I did not know, but I am glad to hear you say that 
too — Now, do not talk any more, we shall call your mother.” 

He opened the door and found Mrs. Hammond pacing up 
and down the hall. She at once entered Lucile’s room with 
the question, “What is your opinion doctor? I am anxious 
to know your verdict.” 

“I am not inclined to differ with your family physician in 
his diagnosis; but I shall make a slight change in the treat- 
ment. Secure for her at once the best nurse to be found. On 
the whole, I think I had better send her a nurse. Get these 
prescriptions filled. We will bring her through.” 

At Dr. Saul’s request, he and Mrs. Hammond now retired 
to the library. Again he looked grave and remained silent. 
Mrs. Hammond said, “Now, doctor, I wish to know the 
worst.” 

The doctor replied, “It is not always best to know the 
worst.” 

The physician’s reply frightened Mrs. Hammond, as he 
intended that it should. 

The anxious mother exclaimed, “Oh, doctor, you must 
make her get well.” 

The physician looked noncommittal and said, “Mrs. 
Hammond Lucile has something on her mind, that will not 
hasten her recovery.” 

“That is what our family physician said too.” 

“Lucile is anxious. She is very much troubled about some- 
thing. If you wish your daughter to recover quickly you 


272 


DIFFERENT 


must if you can, find out and remove her cause for worry — 
Good-bye Mrs. Hammond.” 

“But doctor, I want to know — ” 

“No, I have not anything more to say. Good-bye Mrs. 
Hammond.” 

The physician hurried away, leaving Lucile’s mother in a 
state of mingled consternation and indignation. She flounced 
into the sick room ; but seeing Lucile with her face turned 
disconsolately to the wall, she refrained from cutting criti- 
cism of Dr. Saul. 

Lucile’s conscience would not permit her to resort to the 
raving, recommended by the specialist; but she continued to 
turn her face to the wall, when her mother came into the 
room. 

The resolute old lady stood by her guns for another week, 
making no inquiry in regard to Lucile’s worry. Dr. Saul 
came to see the invalid every day, and after each visit left the 
room looking grave. When questioned he declined to express 
any opinion, except that Lucile would improve rapidly if the 
cause of her anxiety were removed. 

At the end of the week, Mrs. Hammond decided to capit- 
ulate, if she could do it at all gracefully. She would have 
willingly done anything for her daughter, except change her 
opinion. She was by no means a shallow person ; but on the 
contrary was a woman of strong affections. Now, at last she 
had decided because of her great love for her daughter to 
make what was for her the supreme sacrifice. 

Moreover, since she had made up her mind, if necessary to 
tolerate Jack, she discovered that she had always unconsci- 
ously liked this rather unusual young man, and that the con- 
templation of seeing him often was not at all unpleasant. 

She entered the room. Lucile instinctively felt a change 
in her mother’s manner, and did not, as usual, turn her face 


SEE-SAW IN JACK’S LOVE AFFAIRS 273 


to the wall. Mrs. Hammond smiled and said, “Lucile, is it 
that young scape-grace, Jack Venator, that you are worrying 
about?” 

Lucile answered, “I am not worrying about him. I am 
worrying about your attitude towards him — there is noth- 
ing about Jack that worries me.” 

“I disapprove of that young man.” 

“Now, mother, tell me of some one thing that he has done, 
which you honestly disapprove.” 

Somewhat to Lucile’s astonishment, Mrs. Hammond 
laughed pleasantly and replied, “Well, when I come to think 
it over, there are not many things except his falling in love 
with you. I do not approve of that.” 

Lucile was beginning to feel more comfortable in her 
mother’s presence, and with a laugh she retorted, “Now, 
mother, do you think it would have shown him to be a better 
man either intellectually or morally if he had not fallen in 
love with me?” 

Mrs. Hammond smiled indulgently and said, “Of course, 
I can hardly insist that falling in love with my daughter is a 
good proof of either mental deficiency or moral turpitude.” 

“Do you know mother that sounds just like Jack?” 

“I think, Lucile, that he has an interesting way of saying 
things. I want you to distinctly understand that I disap- 
prove of him, but I think I had better admit that he bores me 
less than any of your admirers.” 

Lucile laughed happily, and answered, “Don’t you see 
what an advantage it will be to have a son-in-law, who will 
never bore you?” 

“He is an amusing person. I laugh every time I think of 
how shocked those pious but meddling parishioners of your 
father, must have been to see this athletic young rascal leap- 
ing back and forth over that fence, on the clergyman’s horse, 


274 


DIFFERENT 


on a Sabbath afternoon. Now that is one thing I ought to 
disapprove of ; but it is too funny to get angry about.” 

“You still insist, mother that you disapprove of him. Now 
please tell me why.” 

“Well, for instance he has no reverence for the distinctive 
tenets of your father’s church.” 

“Oh, Daddy would have just loved Jack, if you would 
have let him. I could see that Jack was constantly saying 
what Daddy really thought, but because of his training and 
acquired prejudices, did not dare say.” 

“Yes, I myself have accused your father of a covert liking 
for Jack; and had I been as honest as he, I should have con- 
fessed that I had too.” 

“Mother you are a dear. Do you know that is the first 
time you ever called him just Jack?” 

“You do not mean to say that you really wish to marry 
this somewhat remarkable collegian?” 

“Mother I intend to marry him sometime. I do not intend 
ever to marry any body else. Of course we shall not get 
married while you live if you continue to oppose it. I suppose 
that means that we shall not get married for a long time; 
for I wish you to live a long time. We can both be happy in 
the knowledge that, we shall sometime, as Jack says, ‘Have 
one another for keeps.’ ” 

“I suppose Jack would be pleased to read my obituary, at 
an early day.” 

“No, he would not.” 

“How do you know?” 

“He once said, ‘I suppose I ought to wish your mother to 
die, but I would not soil my mind by even entertaining such 
a thought.’ ” 

“I of course, could disinherit you. You know I have a 
large private fortune,” 


SEE-SAW IN JACK’S LOVE AFFAIRS 275 


“I tried that on Jack, too, and he said that while he would 
not pretend that he thought that unimportant, to let you go 
ahead with the disinheriting act, and he would never turn 
a hair. He added that it was I that he wanted.” 

“Well how is it with you Lucile — if you had to choose 
between the fortune and Jack, which would you choose?” 

“Jack — I should forget all about the fortune, but I should 
never forget Jack.” 

Mrs. Hammond smiled and said, “I shall not commit my- 
self in regard to the fortune, but you may have Jack.” 

“Oh, Mother, do you mean it?” 

“I am not accustomed to say things that I do not mean.” 

“Oh, mother, mother, I am so happy and you are so good.” 

“No, not so good. I insisted on being unreasonable as 
long as I could safely, but never mind that. All you have to 
do is to get well quickly.” 

“Mother, please send for a messenger boy.” 

“What in the world do you want with a messenger?” 

“I am going to send a telegram to Jack.” 

“Mercy no, I wouldn’t do that. Jack will come here at 
once. You do not wish to see him, while you are in bed.” 

“I shall not be in bed. I shall get up right now.” 

Lucile immediately arose and began to dress. Her mother 
hastened to her with a clinical thermometer, and insisted on 
testing her daughter for fever. Lucile good humoredly sub- 
mitted. Her temperature proved to be normal and she pro- 
ceeded with her toilet. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


The Happy Ending 

^*The first act's doubtful but we say. 

It is the last commends the play." 

W HEN the doctor appeared about an hour after 
Lucile had despatched her message to Jack, he 
found mother and daughter in the drawing room. 
Looking admiringly at Lucile, he said, “I see that the cause 
of your worry has been removed.” 

Mrs. Hammond interposed, “It seems to me to have been 
a suspiciously quick recovery.” 

The physician ignored the suggestion of suspicion and 
replied with seeming complacency, “With my treatment, I 
expected her recovery to be sudden, when the cause for worry 
was removed.” 

“Dr. Saul I suspect you of collusion.” 

The astute physician allayed all suspicion of undignified 
trickery on his part by at once admitting the charge. He 
replied, “Sure collusion is my favorite treatment in brain 
fever.” 

“Dr. Saul, do you know Jack Venator?” 

“Sure, that is the reason I recommended the removal of 
the cause. If I had not known that Jack is all right, I should 
have let Lucile take a little risk. My first conversation with 
Lucile confirmed my suspicion of the cause.” 

“What do you think of Jack Venator?” 

“Any man who is as transparently honest, as uncompromis- 
ing truthful and as universally capable as Jack is a safe risk.” 

276 


THE HAPPY ENDING 


277 


“Now, doctor, there is another question I wish to ask: 
would Lucile have recovered if I had not yielded to this 
fancy 

The physician laughed and said, “I am afraid you could 
not have kept Lucile from getting well.” 

Mrs. Hammond, for a moment looked indignant; and then 
the humor of the situation burst upon her and she laughed. 
She, however, relieved her pique by exclaiming, “Doctor, I 
feel a little like I had been tricked.” 

The doctor countered with the question, “Do you not feel 
like you had been tricked into doing right?” 

“Well, perhaps.” 

“Now, Mrs. Hammond, do you not feel happier since you 
have given up nursing an unreasonable resentment against 
Jack Venator? It is my business as a mind specialist to per- 
ceive that you do not now feel bitter.” 

Mrs. Hammond responded with a smile that had in it 
somewhat of the rare quality of that of her daugher, “Dr. 
Saul I am not sure that I shall ever be able to quite forgive 
you ; but as a matter of fact, I find, by retrospection, that I 
always did like Jack Venator. Yes, I am happier since I have 
gotten rid of my prejudice.” 

“Why in the world this stubborn opposition, if you always 
liked Jack?” 

“Well, doctor, I hardly know. I think I took a stand 
against him because Lucile’s father did not approve of him at 
first. Then when I saw him begin to change his mind, I with 
a perversity, that I fear is a little too natural to me, just 
persisted in my opinion. I see now that it was much larger, 
on the part of Doctor Hammond to change his mind.” 

“Mrs. Hammond, while I fear that you are at times a lit- 
tle perverse, you are upon the whole a very normal person — 
if it be possible to use ‘very’ in this connection.” 


278 


DIFFERENT 


“Which means that I do not need treatment.” 

“Which means that you do not need further treatment.” 

“I suppose I ought to thank you for the treatment just 
received, but I will not.” 

“If you do not thank me, I shall be tempted to charge you.” 

“I should rather pay than thank you.” 

“In that case I shall not charge you.” 

The physician, with polite adieus left, as usual, hurriedly. 

About the time Dr. Saul entered the Hammond residence, 
a messenger delivered a telegram to Jack Venator, who had 
gone by rail, some fifteen miles out of the city, to take lunch 
with one of his college friends. The telegram had been for- 
warded by Bob. 

Jack read the following message: 

“Come at once. Nobody sick or dead. 

Lucile.” 

“Say Billie, when is there a train to the city?” Jack 
enquired. 

“There is no train now Jack, until five ten. There is one 
passes here in ten minutes but it does not stop.” 

“Does it hesitate?” 

“Yes, they are repairing some track along here and they 
have to slow down.” 

“Well, 111 take that train.” 

“Better not try it Jack, it goes through at fifteen or twenty 
miles an hour.” 

“Just watch me.” 

“I may never see you all in one place, after you try it.” 

“Oh, I shall try to have my parts cohere.” 

During this conversation the boys were walking towards 
the rail-road station. As they reached the track, the train 


THE HAPPY ENDING 


279 


approached. Jack ran swiftly along the platform and attain- 
ed about the speed of the train, as the back part of the last 
car reached him, he easily swung aboard, somewhat to the 
consternation of an old lady, who had gone to the rear of the 
train to dispose of the remnants of a lunch. 

She exclaimed, “La, young man, you will kill yourself.” 

Jack lifting his hat answered, “It is hardly worth while 
doing that now, as I am safe thus far.” 

The conductor bustled out and shouted, “See here, young 
fellow, what do you mean jumping on this train at a station 
where it does not stop?” 

“I got aboard this train because I wish to travel on this 
train. When I want to go on a train, I always get aboard.” 

“Don’t you know that every year a great many men are 
killed by trying to jump on moving trains?” 

“I am not gathering statistics, besides I felt like taking a 
little risk today.” 

The old lady interpolated the inquiry, “Do you ever 
drink, young man?” 

Jack answered, “No, thank you, if you have some to spare, 
save it for some one else. I never use intoxicants.” 

“La, what does the boy mean by telling me to save drink 
for some one else?” 

“Oh, you do not need to save it. You may throw it out 
on the track, if you wish. That is what the conductor prob- 
ably contemplates doing with me, but I hope he will think 
better of it.’‘ 

The old lady flounced indignantly into the car, and the 
conductor laughed, and said, “You seem to be in such high 
spirits, that I half suspect myself that you have been stimu- 
lating a little.” 

Jack replied, “There are certain non-alcoholic stimulants 
that occasionally come one’s way.” 


28 o 


DIFFERENT 


“I do not know what you mean by nonalcoholic stimu- 
lants; but I want your ticket.” 

“I have not got any ticket. If we keep up this conversa- 
tion a few minutes longer, I shall not need a ticket. How- 
ever, I am ready to pay cash.” 

“This train does not have any rate from the station at 
which you got aboard.” 

“Well, charge me from your last stop.” 

“I guess I had better do that or else put you off. I do 
not wish to report a collection from a point at which this 
train does not stop.” 

“It will cost the company a dollar to stop this train and 
put me off.” 

“Yes, that is about what experts estimate it. I guess I 
shall have to charge you from the last stop — a dollar please.” 

Jack took a silver dollar from his pocket and looking fond- 
ly at the Goddess of Liberty, on the face of it said ruefully, 
“I part with the school-mam’s picture very reluctantly. I 
am pretty nearly out of this last issue of silver coin.” 

The conductor pocketing the coin said good naturedly, 
“You should have thought of the dollar before you jumped 
aboard.” 

“I was compelled to bring my great mind to bear on more 
important matters.” 

The college boy offered his interlocutor a stogie; and they 
smoked comfortably on the back platform, until the train 
reached the Union Station. Jack had just time to purchase 
a ticket for Whitestown, and get on board the first train out. 
Just one hour after he received the telegram he mounted the 
steps at the Hammond residence, and hopefully rang the 
door-bell. Lucile suspecting that it might be her lover 
answered the ringing summons. 

Jack gathered her joyfully into his arms, and then looking 


THE HAPPY ENDING 


281 


about with assumed alarm said, “I suppose your mother is 
not behind the door with an axe.” 

Mrs. Hammond, who was in the drawing room, over- 
heard this, but it was characteristic of her that she was more 
amused than offended by it. 

Lucile said, “Oh, Jack, mother has given her consent.” 

Jack was so taken by surprise that he could not think of 
any thing suitable to say, but the glad look in his eyes showed 
how happy the announcement made him. 

What he actually did say, was, “Good lord what trans- 
formation has she undergone that made her reverse her find- 
ing?” 

Lucile laughed, then blushed and answered somewhat dif- 
fidently, “Well, you see, I have been sick — and Dr. Saul 
helped some too. I shall tell you all about it, sometime, but 
not now.” 

A flash of quick intelligence crossed Jack’s face and he 
said, “I begin to see dimly, but that will keep. Were you 
very sick, dear?” 

“Yes, I was pretty ill, but I believe not dangerously so. I 
feel a little guilty. Jack. Mother thought that I was alarm- 
ingly sick; but she has acted in the most lovely manner ever 
since. Do you know Jack, she confesses that she has always 
had a well disguised liking for you ?” 

“There is no doubt about the completeness of the dis- 
guise.” 

“Will you not come in and see mother now?” 

“Will I ? Just watch me.” 

Jack preceded by Lucile, entered the drawing room. 

Mrs. Hammond was seated in a big rocking chair, which 
as the largest and. most comfortable seat in the room, was 
regarded by the family as a sort of chair of state, and was al- 
ways given to the most distinguished visitor. 


282 


DIFFERENT 


Mrs. Hammond, on the approach of the lovers continued 
to occupy the chair herself. With her dignified mein, her 
black silk gown, a flashing diamond at her throat and her 
gold lorgnettes, through which she peered somewhat curious- 
ly at Jack, she was a formidable figure. 

Jack’s lack of reverence for dignitaries stood him in good 
stead however; and approaching, he bowed politely and 
kissed the hand that she had half extended. 

She said solemnly, “This is a sad day for me. Jack, when 
I surrender my only daughter to any man.” 

Jack smiled happily, and when Jack smiled happily, he 
smiled contageously. He said, “You do surrender her to me 
then Mrs. Hammond? Let us make sure of that first, and 
we can go into the sad features of the case later.” 

Mrs. Hammond liked him all the better because he was 
so un-afraid. She answered, “Yes, I have consented to per- 
mit her to marry you. It seems nothing else will do her.” 

“Well, you see Mrs. Hammond, while I realize that it 
will not do as well as I should like — I do not pretend to say 
that any man is worthy of Lucile — there is nothing else that 
would do so well.” 

Mrs. Hammond, for the first time, smiled at Jack in a 
friendly way and replied, “I think I had better confess to 
you as I have to Lucile, that while I give Lucile to you very 
reluctantly, you do bore me less than any of her other ad- 
mirers.” 

“Thank you Mrs. Hammond. Thank you very much. 
You have guessed what I have already confessed to Lucile, 
that my virtues are all negative. It is not for the things 
I do that people tolerate me, but for the things I do not do.” 

Mrs. Hammond was beginning to feel more comfortable 
in Jack’s presence, and smiling appreciatively said, “If I had 
not discovered by observation and inquiry some very positive 


THE HAPPY ENDING 


283 


virtues in you, such as courage, truthfulness, honesty and 
intellectuality, I should never have consented to your becom- 
ing my son-in-law.” 

“You have given up the idea then that I once tried to steal 
the family silver?” 

Mrs. Hammond laughed, “I knew Lucile would tell you 
that. I was of course, even then only acting.” 

“Mrs. Hammond, your histrionic ability is only surpassed 
by the grace of your descent from — what shall I say — I beg 
pardon from your steed of very alarming altitude, or better 
from what seemed to Lucile and me a very impossible posi- 
tion.” 

“Jack, you narrowly escape being pert.” 

“I fear I did not quite make good my escape. I apologize. 
Allow me to say, Mrs. Hammond, that I have always admir- 
ed you, even when you were most bitterly opposed to me. I 
cannot help admiring a good intellect and a sense of humor 
even in an enemy — and thank the Lord you are not any 
longer my enemy.” 

This reply pleased Mrs. Hammond greatly. His evident 
sincerity, when he apologized and when he acknowledged her 
humor and her mental powers gratified her very much. The 
two things on which she most prided herself were her sense 
of the ridiculous and her intellectuality — endowments which 
some stupid people never even suspected that she possessed. 
She was a self contained woman, and thawed out with only 
a few kindred spirits. She had at last detected in Jack a 
kindred spirit. 

Her guest remained for dinner and by the use of great 
speed and dexterity succeeded in seating both Mrs. Ham- 
mond and her daughter, and altogether deporting himself in 
such a way as to escape subsequent criticism by the discrim- 
inating old lady. 


284 


DIFFERENT 


Shortly after the conclusion of the meal, the collegian took 
his leave happy, hopeful, and confident; but upon the whole 
a good deal astonished at the turn his affairs had taken. 
When relating his experience to Bob, he declared that he felt 
as if he had been run over by a steam roller and found to his 
surprise that while he was uninjured, the crushing machine 
had been transformed. 

After Jack’s departure, Lucile looking approvingly at her 
mother, inquired, “Well, dear, after seeing him for the first 
time through uncolored glasses what do you think of him?” 

Mrs. Hammond replied, “Jack certainly adopted a line of 
conversation that no other living man would have used, when 
trying to pacify the hostile mother of his sweetheart.” 

“And no other line of conversation would have succeeded 
so well with you, mother.” 

“Yes, I think that is probably true. — I grant that you are 
right when you insist that he is ‘different.’ ” 
























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